“You’re not leaving town, are you? I mean, you know what the chief warned. They’ll issue an arrest warrant if you split.”
Clay gritted his teeth and turned himself in front of the fire to warm his other side. “I remember.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“No, I get it. I really do. It’s just that if it comes down to a choice between my future and Sandy Lynn even having a future, you know what I’m going to do.”
“If you don’t mind my saying so, that’s nuts.”
“Criticize all you want,” Clay told him. “It won’t change my mind.”
“You’d rather end up in jail for a crime you didn’t commit than take a chance of your old girlfriend getting hurt?”
“It won’t come to that.”
“Ha! Let’s hope not, because if you jump off the pier into a pool full of hungry alligators, I’m staying on the shore and keeping my reputation clean. Just so you know.”
“I’m not asking you to sacrifice yourself, too.”
Abe huffed. “Right. It’s bad enough you’re thinking of doing it.”
* * *
It didn’t take Sandy Lynn long to get warmed up and change into dry clothes. She was in the kitchen trying to scrape together a decent meal when Clay finally joined her.
One eyebrow arched and her eyes widened. “Nice. Where did you get those sweats, out of the trash?”
He chuckled. “I’d left them here after cleaning the last time. Stuck them in the wash and forgot them.”
Smiling back at him, she couldn’t get over how good he looked no matter how he was dressed. His hair wasn’t long enough yet to be properly tousled, but he was on the way to growing the kind of hair women stood in line to run their fingers through. Why he hadn’t already been snatched up by some determined single girl was beyond comprehension. And that scruffy chin. Oh, my. Rugged was certainly becoming on him. Of course, so was clean-shaven and neat.
Warmth stole up her cheeks. What was she blushing for? Just because she’d vowed to remain alone for the rest of her life didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate an appealing man.
Keep reminding yourself of that, Sandy Lynn thought. Clay had always been adamant about wanting a big family, lots of kids, and she was never going to be able to give that to him. Which makes absolutely no tangible difference, she added, disgusted over her wayward imagination. Fairy tales were for clueless children, not responsible adults like her. Not only would she hurt herself if she demonstrated a romantic interest in Clay, she’d be setting him up for the kind of heartbreaking disappointment she’d experienced when he’d rebuffed her affection and left to join the air force.
“I can’t do that,” she murmured, not dreaming he could hear her.
“Can’t do what? Cook?”
Chin jutting out, she glanced over at him. “I can cook, I’m just not having a lot of success finding anything worth eating. I guess I should be thankful that you left anything behind when you cleaned out your cupboards.”
“I was in a hurry. My Realtor was supposed to be bringing prospective renters by to see the place and I wasn’t ready.”
“Why didn’t you come back to pack up the rest?”
The moment she asked the question she realized she already knew the answer. “You’ve been helping me ever since, haven’t you?”
“Close.” He struck a pose, hands in his pockets, bare feet on the carpet near the fireplace. “You have kept me kind of busy, not that I mind. It helped take my mind off my own troubles.”
“How is that going?” She hated to ask but felt bound to.
“Fair, I guess. Abe is busy trying to get my car released so we won’t have to ride double again.”
A broad grin spread. So did her blush. “Hooray. This is not the best weather for that kind of transportation.” Waiting for him to provide details, she busied herself stirring two cans of chicken soup that she’d opened to make a meal. That, plus slightly stale crackers, would have to do.
“I don’t suppose you have any bowls stashed away somewhere?”
“No, but I did leave a few mugs. We can use those.”
“Spoons?”
“Um, I don’t think so.”
Sandy Lynn had to laugh. “No problem. We can drink most of our supper and push the chunks out of the mugs with crackers if we’re quick enough.”
The fond expression on his face tugged at her heart even before he spoke. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
“Absolutely,” she joked, determined to make light of his sudden seriousness. “Anybody who can make a gourmet meal out of canned soup with no bowls or spoons has to be a genius.”
“Well, I wouldn’t go quite that far,” Clay drawled past a lopsided smile.
What a relief! He’d taken her hint and lightened up. Whew. No matter how long they were stuck together or how difficult it became to keep her emotional distance, she was going to do so. Period.
Memories of the beatings Charles had given her and the loss of her barely formed child flooded Sandy Lynn’s mind and helped her shut down her emotions. If reliving such pain was what it took to keep from throwing herself at poor Clay, then that’s what she would do. As often as necessary. Clearly, she was never going to be wife material, so why torture herself wishing for the impossible. It was enough that they were friends again. It would have to be.
There was no sound as his bare feet padded across the kitchen toward her, yet she knew he was there. Close by. He smelled wonderful, like soap and shampoo and...chicken noodle soup. Coming to that conclusion made her smile again.
“That’s better,” Clay said softly.
“What is?”
“Your smile. I thought you were a thousand miles away for a minute there. You sure didn’t look happy.”
“Happiness is too dependent on outside circumstances,” Sandy Lynn said. “I prefer to concentrate on joy. That comes from the inside.”
She felt a gentle touch on her upper arm and had to struggle to keep from leaning into him.
“What gives you joy?”
“Food,” she answered quickly, brightly. “I am totally starving.”
“Right.” Clay withdrew to pull two mugs out of a high cupboard and placed them on the countertop. “Nothing but the best china for my guests.”
“I’m impressed.”
“Knew you would be,” he quipped.
Sandy Lynn played along in spite of catching a glimpse of his face and realizing he was struggling, too, although why was a mystery. Their current situation bothered her, of course, so it likely upset him, too, but that wasn’t her fault. She had not asked him to stick with her. Had she?
Considering everything that had happened in the last day and a half, never mind their distant past, Clay was probably having second thoughts. She certainly was. It seemed as if each event built upon the previous ones until she and Clay had no hope of escaping their forced proximity. At least not in one piece.
After filling her mug halfway, she circled the breakfast bar and perched on a high stool. “I’d have made coffee with these little bottles of water if you’d had coffee and a pot.”
“Water’s fine.” Clay leaned against the counter instead of joining her at the bar and blew on the top of his own mug. “At least my stove worked.”
“The trick was finding a saucepan,” Sandy Lynn said, grinning. “I found a stainless steel one subbing as a saucer to catch drips from a flowerpot and scoured it out before using it.”
“That’s comforting.” A wry smile was poorly hidden behind the rim of his mug.
“I thought you’d appreciate it.”
Movement outside the window over the sink caught her attention, and she jerked so hard she splashed drops of soup.
Clay was at her side in an instant, his firearm in hand. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“
Outside. I thought I saw someone.”
“Stay away from the windows. I’ll go check.”
Sandy Lynn wanted to grab him. To insist he stay with her. She didn’t do either; she merely froze where she sat and watched Clay don his boots, then began praying for his safety as well as her own, as he left the condo.
Outside, someone shouted.
Sandy Lynn slid from the stool, crawled beneath the breakfast bar and held her breath, listening to the ensuing silence.
THIRTEEN
Following man-size prints in the snow, Clay had rounded the building. Both hands gripped the pistol, aiming at the sky. The last thing he needed was an accidental discharge of his weapon.
Even though Chief Wright hadn’t passed judgment on him so far, an unauthorized shooting wouldn’t do much to substantiate innocence. That thought was so ironic Clay almost snorted aloud. Talk about irony. The one cop who was willing to step up and protect Sandy wasn’t a cop at all. Not anymore. Meaning he had no real authority, either. Yes, he bluffed well. No, it didn’t always work as perfectly as it had on Harper and Allgood back at the hospital.
As Clay completed his circle of the condo complex he came face-to-face with Abe Matthews. The cop was in civilian clothes.
Abe waved. “I got your car. Parked it just up the street so it wouldn’t tip anybody off that you were home.”
“Thanks.” Breathing a sigh, Clay holstered his gun. “Why didn’t you come to the door?”
“I was about to.”
“I mean before. Did you decide to peek in a window to make sure it was me?”
“What?” The thinner man shrugged his shoulders and frowned. “I didn’t look in any windows.”
Clay palmed the pistol grip, ready to draw again. “You’re serious?”
“Serious as they come. Why? Did you see a prowler?”
“Sandy Lynn thought she did.”
“How about you?”
“Whoever it was had ducked before I turned around,” Clay told his friend. “I did find footprints in the snow. That’s why I figured it was you.”
“Nope. Sorry. Did you follow them?”
“Yeah. Right back here to where they started,” Clay told him. “The street and drive are too icy to register fresh impressions so this is a dead end.”
“Okay. Well, if you’ll run me back to the station so I don’t have to hitchhike, I’ll get out of your hair.”
“I’m not leaving Sandy Lynn here alone.”
“So, bring her. I don’t care as long as I don’t get in trouble for being AWOL.”
Gesturing toward the stained-glass-framed entrance, Clay said, “Okay. Come in for a second while I explain to her. We’re having soup. You’re welcome to join us.”
Abe laughed. “Not unless it’s followed by a juicy hamburger and fries.”
“Don’t I wish. We were too frozen to even think of food before we got here and warmed up a little.” When he noticed his friend’s raised brows, he felt he should explain further. “Nothing happened, okay? Three bikers chased us all over the back roads, and then we managed to lose them. There was no way either of us could have lasted much longer without a break and dry clothes.”
Abe eyed him, head to foot, and drawled, “Ooo-kay.”
“Stop with the innuendos. We’re old friends, that’s all. I didn’t even notice that she’s a woman.”
That brought gales of laughter. Clay was adamant. “I didn’t. She’s the same lost kid she always was. I feel sorry for her. She’s got nobody.”
“What about that escaped prisoner? He obviously cares.”
“Not for the right reasons,” Clay countered abruptly. The two entered the condo together. “Sandy Lynn?” he called.
“Over here.” She crawled out of her hiding place with a smile and flushed cheeks. “I was just checking for dust bunnies.”
“Right. Find any?”
“Nope. Floor’s clean. You pass inspection.”
“Good to know.” She had begun clearing off the sink and rinsing dishes so he stopped her. “Leave that. We need to talk.”
Her gaze darted to Abe. “Did you catch Charles?”
“No. Sorry.” A few strides carried him to the open fireplace, where he warmed his open hands.
“Then what?”
The sense that she was again concentrating on him was strong, and Clay had proof as soon as their eyes met. “Abe brought my car. We need to give him a lift back to the station.”
“No more sliding sideways on slush and landing in puddles? Hooray.”
The other cop scowled at Clay. “What’s she mean?”
“It’s a long story,” Clay alibied. “Let’s just say we didn’t get iced up by sensible city riding.”
“Unbelievable.”
Breaking into a grin as he recalled Sandy Lynn’s expertise, Clay agreed. “You’ve got that right. You should see her handle my bike. She’s more than capable. She’s great.”
“Uh-huh. In that case, how did you wreck and get wet?”
Red cheeked, Sandy Lynn didn’t reveal their accident so Clay did. “I happened to be driving then, if you must know. She took over when I knocked myself silly.”
“Now that sounds like a good story to tell at parties,” Abe said, chuckling. “I’m looking forward to hearing all the details.”
“Later, maybe,” Clay countered. “Right now we need to get on the road so you aren’t missed.” He locked eyes with Sandy Lynn again. “Go get all your stuff and bring it with you.”
“Why? We’re coming back here, aren’t we?”
Did he dare open up to her about his fears? “I want to be ready for any eventuality, okay? You never know.”
A roll of her eyes was her only reply as she left him. That was enough to tell how exasperated she was getting. Well, so was he. It seemed as though their every move was countered too quickly, too perfectly, to be a coincidence. Somehow, Hood and his cohorts were being fed information. They had to be.
Which meant what? Clay asked himself. Was there a link to the insider theft he’d been trying to prove? If so, what was the point of involving Sandy Lynn? There was no way that Charles Hood could be behind the losses from confiscated property.
The connection was Clay, himself, he decided, clenching his jaw. Whoever was out to discredit him had latched on to the attack at the apartment and was using those criminals to wreak havoc on Sandy Lynn and therefore on him, too. So, suppose he distanced himself? Would that help, or was it too late to convince anybody that he didn’t care, starting with himself?
One look at her and he knew he couldn’t abandon her. Not again. Not now. Not while her life and well-being were still in danger. If he did back off and something happened to harm her, he’d never forgive himself.
Stop thinking of yourself, his conscience warned. Do what’s best for her.
That conclusion was so logical it was irrefutable. So, what was best? A stint in witness protection would help, of course, but since she wasn’t actually a vital witness in an upcoming court case he doubted she fit the criteria. Shipping her out of town, alone, might be a good idea except that would mean she’d be unguarded again, and once her roommate was released from the hospital, that woman would also need a safe place to stay.
Maybe he was thinking too far ahead, Clay reasoned. Borrowing trouble that might never appear. And speaking of appearing, Sandy Lynn was back with the pillowcase luggage. Her damp clothes were draped over her forearm.
“I’ll take my jeans, too,” Clay said. “They feel almost dry.”
“We should have thrown everything in your dryer,” Sandy Lynn said. “Wait till those jeans cool off—they’ll feel plenty wet.”
“They’ll dry more in the car,” he insisted. “Grab your jacket and boots, and let’s hit the road.”
“Bad choice of words,” she teased with a twinkle i
n her eye. “Last time we tried that it hurt.”
“Very funny.”
“I thought so,” Abe said, chuckling. “I wish I’d been there to see it.”
Clay arched a brow. “Oh? Well, it’s a good thing you weren’t or I might wonder how Hood and his cronies found out I had a bike.”
The closed expression on the cop’s face did not reflect the innocence that Clay had expected. Not even a little bit.
* * *
The men relegated Sandy Lynn to the rear seat in the cushy sedan. This was the kind of luxury car she recalled Clay’s parents always driving, which reminded her how far apart their relative worlds were. She was the daughter of an alcoholic father and a druggie mom. Talk about opposites! No wonder Clay hadn’t taken her teenage confession of love seriously. They’d have made a horrible match.
Running her hand over the leather seat, she marveled at its soft smoothness. It was wrong to covet, she knew, but gave herself permission to at least appreciate riding in such a nice car. Conversation between Clay and Abe caught her attention enough to pull her into the present and hold her there.
Clay was driving. “I’ll drop you at the corner so nobody spots us together, if you don’t mind a short walk.”
“No problem. I’m dressed for it better than you are.”
“It’s been a rough day,” Clay replied. “Did you get me the money?”
“Yeah. As much as I could scrape up on short notice. And a couple of cheap phones. What do you need this stuff for?”
“To keep from using credit cards.”
“You worry me, buddy. You’re beginning to sound like a guy planning on running from the cops.”
“If I have to run it won’t be from the law. It’ll be for her sake.”
A quick tilt of Clay’s head to the side indicated the rear seat, and Sandy Lynn felt the heaviness of a shared concern. So, that was why he’d insisted they bring all the clothing with them.
I should split from him, she reasoned. That’s only fair. But where can I go? What can I do on my own? At least we have wheels again, and who knows when my car will be released or if it’s even drivable?
Christmas Vendetta Page 12