His Highness. Take that Mayor Bitch. Who’s not good enough for your daughter now?
“Sara?” Concern colored Mr. Donovan’s voice.
Just like that, Ridley fell from his throne.
“Shit! What should I do?”
Heart racing, he took a few steps toward the window, ready to jump if he needed to. The latch looked like a Chinese puzzle.
“Uh, calm down.” She pulled his hand away from the window and steered him toward the desk chair. Then, louder, she said, “We’re up here, Daddy.”
With every thump on the steps, Ridley felt death coming closer. If Sara’s mom was bad, her dad would have to be worse, right? He almost laughed out loud. She’d been right. He was going to die and she was going to watch.
“Hey, guys.”
Even though he’d expected Sean Donovan, Ridley still startled when the man appeared. A concerned cut of eyes across the room to him was the only sign Sara’s father even knew Ridley was there.
“Did you see the paper?” Sara shuffled through the pile of pages on her bed and handed over the front page. “Ridley’s a hero. The whole town knows.”
“I saw that.” The older man’s voice cracked with some sort of emotion. “You didn’t mention the police and the ambulance when you told me what happened this morning.”
His gaze was pointed toward his daughter, stern but filled with love. His feet, however, were moving in Ridley’s direction. An arm extended, and Ridley dodged, ready to hit the floor if necessary.
“Hey, son.” A warm hand landed on Ridley’s shoulder and squeezed. “Thank you. Thank you for being there for my daughter.”
The room swam as Ridley entered an alternate reality. No father had ever shaken his hand, not even his own.
9
Ridley glanced at the clock on his phone.
“Damn it.”
Sara had texted to let him know she’d be closing the diner for Kate again. Her dad was going on a rare date with her mom before the weekly council meeting. Mr. and Mrs. Donovan got so little alone time that she didn’t want her father to insist on staying with her.
Ridley had promised he’d be there before nine o’clock to keep her company in case the man in black showed up again. Ridley was about to break that promise because an overnight rain had undone a lot of work repairing the mudslide.
He crammed his reflective vest into the saddlebags on his bike, waved to the foreman, and kicked the motor to life. He’d be lucky to get there before ten, when the last customers would leave Sara alone, in the dark, with nothing and no one to protect her.
He pulled into the parking lot at five minutes after ten but didn’t bother to turn off the engine. The building was dark, obviously locked up, and Sara’s car was gone.
The roar of the bike between his legs muffled the anger screaming through his veins. Why had she left by herself? She knew he’d see her home.
By the time she whipped open her front door, he had a full speech ready to lay down.
“Why would you go off on your own?” Ridley stared down at Sara, refusing to let her big, blue eyes distract him.
“What does it matter to you? No one said you had to take responsibility for me.”
“I want to, Sara.” The rage he’d been working toward fled, and he slumped over onto the doorjamb. “I really do care if something happens to you, and you invited that when you left the diner without letting me know.”
“I…” She trailed off and stared at the floor, her earlier irritation draining away. “I thought you’d changed your mind. That you didn’t want to come.”
Ridley fought the guilt welling inside him over accepting overtime. The more money he made, the faster he could get into his own place, especially since he had secret wishes of building a safe and secure life for the mayor’s innocent daughter.
“Come here,” he said, reaching for her hand.
She looked up, lower lip trembling. She wasn’t mad that he was late. She doubted him, his feelings for her. And why wouldn’t she, after he’d pushed her away for weeks?
Staying in Cedar City for another year—hell, even another ten years—would be worth it if he knew Sara would be safe.
“I’ll come to you wherever you are, whenever you need me. Just…don’t go walking around alone.”
Those big blue eyes searched his for what felt like a whole minute before she finally nodded once. “Mom’s still at the council meeting, probably for another hour or so. Do you want to come in?”
He looked past her into the living room, where her dad sat with his feet propped up in a recliner. Mr. Donovan looked over the top of the newspaper he was reading and smiled a welcome.
“Come on in. I’ll leave you guys the TV and go take care of a few things in the garage.”
Sara snorted and stepped back to let him in. He tried not to watch her walk to the couch, where she plopped down with a tiny grunt. Mr. Donovan, too busy wrangling the recliner and the paper so he could stand, didn’t see Ridley’s struggle.
He sat at the other end of the couch, as far away as he could, and waited, eyes glued to the police procedural show, for Mr. Donovan to clear out. The moment he heard the door to the garage close, he cleared his throat.
“This show is really good.”
Sara looked over with a grin. “You’ve never watched Mind of a Murderer before?”
“I don’t really watch any TV. Dad mostly used ours as another table for his beer.”
Sara nodded once. “I’ve kinda started imagining the police wondering about the unsub—that’s what they call the murderer—at the deaths where I shriek. Think they’d ever guess it was me?”
Ridley snorted. Sara was the last person anyone would expect.
He still didn’t know how to reconcile what she’d shared with him. Couldn’t figure out how to feel about it all without settling on the simplest explanation: Sara was crazy. But she hadn’t imagined the guy that tried to kill her.
Which reminded him—
“I bought something for you.”
Sara looked away from the television, eyes wide. Ridley resisted the urge to drag her across the couch into his lap.
Slowly. He had to move slowly with her. Even without asking, he knew she’d never had sex. If she had, it wasn’t the kind that turned her world inside out and upside down, the way he was sure it would be when they…
If they…
Back to the gift. He cleared his throat and dug into the pocket of backpack. The little wooden box had weighed heavy since he’d bought it. He searched a little longer for the smaller box and pulled them out together.
“Okay, so I don’t want you to freak out.” He didn’t know what else to say, so he just set everything in front of her.
Sara’s eyes caught first on the decorative wood, and then on the smaller package. Back to the bigger box. Blue eyes widened as she gasped.
“Is this?” She didn’t finish. Instead, her slim fingers worked at the latch and she lifted the lid.
After staring for a long moment, she lifted her gaze to him and smirked. “It’s pink.”
Ridley shrugged and pulled the little revolver from its velvet nest. “The only way this gun could have screamed your name more is if Sara had been engraved on it. Which can happen, if you want it.”
The revolver was a sleek gray, with a pastel pink handle, small enough that she could carry it in the tiniest of handbags.
“I’ll teach you how to use it, but I want you to go ahead and keep it in your room tonight. And it’s not exactly legal for you to have it until you get a permit, so maybe talk to your dad about that.”
He showed her how to load it and where the safety was. “Don’t flip this unless you plan to shoot, okay?”
She nodded.
“Ever,” he insisted. “If you do need to shoot, just flip the safety, point, and squeeze the trigger. In most cases, the gun alone will scare someone away, but that guy—”
Ridley stopped and stared, gaze slipping over her flushed cheeks and slen
der neck. What would he do if anything ever happened to her?
“I can teach you the rest tomorrow, and we’ll also need to make sure you get the right permits for it. For now, just keep it close, okay?”
She nodded again and ran her fingers over the pink rubber handle again.
“I’ll keep it next to the bed,” she promised. “Not that I expect anyone to find their way in there.”
He couldn’t help the wistful chuckle that escaped.
Sara woke the next morning and looked first to her legs and arms for any evidence she’d shrieked in the night. With no scratches, bruises, or bumps in sight, she grinned and turned next to the bedside table, where her gift from Ridley sat inside the drawer, still in the ornate wooden box.
“You awake, pumpkin?” Her dad called through the door.
“Yeah. Come on in.” She grabbed her hoodie and pulled it on over her pajamas just as her father appeared.
“I thought we could go get some breakfast together. Maybe have another little talk?”
Oh, boy. Two visits from Ridley in two days. The dad instincts were finally starting to kick in.
“Where will we go? Where does anyone go on Sunday when the diner is closed?” She huffed a laugh and pictured the McDonald’s near the interstate. The McDonald’s where Ridley had gone to avoid her for weeks.
Of course, that’s where they ended up. The place was still mostly empty. Anyone who wasn’t already at church was still asleep. They slid into a booth in the front corner and started digging through the biscuits.
“He really seems to care about you.” Her dad spoke slowly, like he was trying to find the right words.
“I think he feels responsible for me, especially after the other night. Probably nothing romantic. I looked it up, and I guess some people think they feel romantic stuff for someone after they go through a traumatic event together, or whatever…” She stopped, aware that she was babbling.
Dad bit his bottom lip, the way he used to when he was trying not to laugh at her elementary antics. “That could be true. Or maybe he sees now what a pretty young lady you are.”
Her face caught fire, and she ducked her head to hide what would surely be bright pink cheeks.
“Dad.” She dragged the vowel out, just as she had when she was a kid.
“Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I think he’s a pretty solid young man. Works hard, keeps his head down, doesn’t cause any trouble.” Her father tipped cream into his coffee and glanced around for a spoon to stir it. The best he could find was a plastic knife. “The rest of the town might judge him unfairly because of his father, but I’ve known Ridley for a long time now. You could do a damn sight worse. You could even do unexciting, like Nick.”
“He bought me a gun.” The words tumbled out, and she slammed her lips together so hard that her teeth clattered.
Dad blinked and sat back in his seat. “He beat me to it. See? He’s a good guy.”
Emboldened, Sara chattered on. “It’s really cute. Small, with a pink handle.”
That was met with a snort.
“And I know I need something to protect myself from this guy, but…a gun?”
“That guy probably won’t bother you again, but it’s not a bad idea to be able to protect yourself. You’ll need—”
“Yeah, a license and some lessons. Ridley said he’d teach me, maybe tonight, but I don’t know how to get the permit without mom finding out.” Keeping focused on the license meant she didn’t let on just how much she needed to worry about Sealgair. That was maybe a conversation for another time.
They ate the rest of their breakfast through less important talk, and her dad didn’t bring the gun up again until they were gathering their wrappers to head for the trash.
“I’ll take you to the sheriff’s office. He probably won’t think to mention anything to your mom if I’m with you. But honestly, ninety-nine percent of people in Cedar City have a gun. Your mom shouldn’t be surprised that you have one, too.”
“I started filling out the application this morning for my permit,” Sara said the moment Ridley turned off the motor to his bike.
They’d made plans to meet at the diner, where he’d leave his motorcycle and ride with her. He wanted to take her to the place where he’d learned to shoot his first BB gun long ago, a clearing in the woods near his house. Once upon a time, his dad had helped him set up targets and helped him graduate from BB gun to his first pistol.
“My dad’s going to go with me to turn it in to the sheriff. You know how people talk. My mom would find out within two seconds if I went by myself.”
He climbed into the passenger seat and immediately flipped open the glove box. All he found were a few papers and the owner’s manual for her car
“Where is it?”
“The gun?” she asked as she started the car. “It’s in my bag in the backseat.”
“Sara.”
She froze at his sharp tone. The car was in reverse and her foot on the pedal, but she didn’t move.
“Keep it within arm’s reach at all times.”
“Right.” She dragged the word out and then sighed. She’d talked to him the same way she had her father.
With the car back in park, she reached behind her to drag her tote into the front seat. He took the box from her along with a pack of ammunition. A quick check showed that she’d left the bullets in the gun from her lesson the night before.
“First rule is to always unload it when you get home,” Ridley said. “If you can’t promise to do that, we end the lesson here. Keep the gun and the bullets in separate places. Got it?”
He painstakingly showed her again how to make sure the ammunition was placed correctly, how to snap the revolver closed, and most importantly, how to point the gun away from anything that she didn’t want to kill.
“We’ll leave it loaded for the drive. Check the safety.”
She obeyed and then put the gun into the glove box. When he seemed satisfied, she put the car back in gear and followed his directions out of town and up the mountain.
“This is close to where you live, isn’t it?” She tried not to be embarrassed that she knew so much about him.
“Lived.”
She pressed her lips together and nodded.
“Uh, my dad and I—”
“I get it.” She jumped in to save him, but he didn’t need it.
“It’s fine. We just had a fight. I don’t think I’ll be going back. I’ve been staying with a guy from work while I try to find my own place. That day we met over in Burnsville, I’d just looked at an apartment.”
“But that’s so far away!” Again, she slammed her mouth closed and sighed. How many more ways could she embarrass herself with her stupid crush?
“Yeah, well. I decided to stay a little closer to…home.”
Was he going to say “you”? Could he maybe, possibly feel something, even a fraction, of what she felt? She didn’t have time to explore the possibility, because he directed her onto a dirt road that led almost immediately into a clearing just big enough to park. The thoughts kept knocking around in her brain as they walked through the trees to a field where a makeshift table stood.
He left her there, overcome with the possibilities and daydreams, so he could dig through the tall grass for old cans and jugs. The bullet-riddled garbage had obviously played the part of targets for years.
She still wondered as he returned to her side and led her through the process of checking the revolver for bullets and then the safety.
“Before you shoot, you’ll need a solid stance. This may look like a girly gun, but it can knock you on your ass if you’re not ready for it.”
Without warning, he stepped close behind her and molded his chest to her back. Sara lost all thought and feeling except for the warm press of his body against hers. She swore she could feel every ridge and muscle beneath the thin cotton of his T-shirt. Just as she regained her senses, he moved again.
One booted foot slipped between
hers and spread her legs gently. When she tried to move too far with her right, he reached down and placed a hand on her hip, searing her to the bone with his heat.
“Just like this,” he murmured in her ear. “Plant your feet right there. Feel all your weight down through your legs to your toes. If you’re too light on your feet when you take your first shot, you’ll miss every time.”
Sara drew in a shuddering breath and nodded slowly. She feared he would step away once he had her in position, but she didn’t need to worry. His warm fingers grasped her hand and lifted her arm out in front of her. To keep his grip, he pressed even closer against her, his nose trailing lightly over her temple as they moved.
“Point the gun at the target, but don’t put your finger on the trigger just yet. Give me your other hand.”
She lifted her left arm obligingly, mindlessly, determined to do anything and everything he asked, even if he threw down the weapon and dragged her under the table of targets set up fifty feet away. Especially if he dragged her under the table.
His touch trailed slowly down her other arm until he clasped her wrist. “Now, wrap this hand around the fingers of your right… There you go. Push with your right and pull with your left. Feel that tension between them.”
She felt tension, but it wasn’t between her stupid arms. Warmth and tingles built slowly between her legs, and she struggled not to squirm. Did he have any idea what he was doing to her with his shooting lesson?
“Beautiful, Sara.” He whispered the words, and she wished more than anything she could see his face as he said them.
“Now, put your finger on the trigger. Look down the barrel at the target. And squeeze.”
The roar surprised her, even though she’d expected it, and the force knocked her backward into Ridley’s solid chest. She nearly dropped the gun. Her hands and arms stung from the force of the little gun’s recoil.
“Did I hit it?”
He chuckled in her ear, breath stirring the little hairs on the back of her neck. Suddenly, all of her tingled.
Shriek: Legend of the Bean Sídhe Page 11