She Can Run

by Melinda Leigh

  Jack’s gaze was drawn to the industrial clock on the wall. It had been nearly two hours. Where was Quinn? Could Beth’s injuries be more serious than he’d thought? He shouldn’t have given in and moved her. What was wrong with him? He knew better. He should have pinned her to the ground and called that ambulance.

  His mental flogging was in full swing when Quinn appeared in the waiting room doorway and motioned for Jack to join him in the hall. Jack extricated his shoulder from beneath Katie’s head and slid out of the chair. His cane was trapped on the other side of Katie’s chair. His cousin frowned as Jack limped toward him without it.

  Jack kept his voice low. “How is she?”

  “Lucky. Half dozen stitches in her head, another eight in her arm, and a concussion, plus numerous bruises and abrasions, but miraculously, no broken bones. She’ll be really sore for a week or two, but after that she should be fine, provided she gets some rest.” Quinn removed his glasses and scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’d like to keep her overnight, do a CAT scan in the morning, but she won’t stay. I can’t make her. She already signed a release.” Quinn hesitated. “How much do you know about her?”

  “Not much. Why?”

  “Just a feeling.” Quinn frowned and was quiet for a moment. “I shouldn’t really give you any medical information—you’re not her family, but I think you need to know just in case I’m right.” He paused and glanced quickly up and down the empty hall. “She’s evasive about the origins of some previous injuries. Does she have a husband or boyfriend?”

  “Not that I know of. She says she’s a widow.” Jack looked over his shoulder through the doorway behind him to make sure Ben and Katie were still sleeping. “None of them will talk about their past, but they’re afraid of something. I don’t want to push too hard for information. I get the feeling they’d take off. They need help.” Jack told his cousin about their uncle’s letter. “So, let’s keep this low-key, OK?”

  Quinn sighed. “OK, but you are going to have to watch her carefully for the next couple of days. You’ve had a concussion or two. You know the drill. Call me tomorrow and let me know how she is.”

  Jack returned to the waiting room and lowered himself into the chair next to Ben. Katie was still sleeping, curled in a tiny ball on Ben’s other side. Her face was far more peaceful in sleep than the haunted expression she wore when awake.

  Jack looked at the tall, lanky youth slumped in the chair beside him. Ben’s eyes were closed, but Jack knew he wasn’t asleep by his uneven breathing.

  “Is she gonna be all right?” The boy’s voice shook.

  “Yeah, she should be fine. She’ll be ready to go home soon.”

  “I can take care of the horses and stuff until she’s better. I know how,” Ben offered.

  “I’m sure you do, Ben. Don’t worry about anything like that. We’ll all pitch in for the next couple of weeks.” Jack paused. “You know, Ben, your mom always seems so nervous. She’s too thin. She needs to take better care of herself. I’m worried about her. I’d like to help you guys.”

  The boy silently contemplated the worn tread on his sneaker. With a tug of guilt, Jack pushed harder, sensing Ben was near the breaking point. The strain of the night’s events had overloaded the boy’s already stressed system.

  “Ben, I was a policeman for a long time, but I can’t help if I don’t know what happened to you guys. You can’t run from your problems forever. They tend to catch up with you eventually. That’s no way to live. Let me help.”

  “He hit her.” A single tear slipped out of Ben’s closed eyes. “While they were dating, he was always so polite. Mom said he was the perfect gentleman. After, she stayed because he said he would hurt us if she didn’t do what he told her. One night, they had a really big fight. Mom came and got us out of bed. She wouldn’t talk about it, but she was bleeding and he was out cold on the floor. We left right then. He’s been trying to find us ever since. Uncle James hid us for a while, but we had to leave his house because it got too dangerous.”

  Ben wiped a hand across his face and sniffed. He sat up a little straighter, like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. “Are you going to tell her I told you? ‘Cause she said we could never talk about it, but I don’t think she planned on getting hurt like this. I like it here. We don’t have anywhere else to go.” Ben grabbed Jack’s arm in a panicked grip. “You can’t let him find us.”

  “It’s OK, Ben. You’re not alone anymore. I like having you guys around.” Jack put his arm around Ben’s shoulders. To his surprise, the boy didn’t draw away, but leaned into him instead. Ben’s body relaxed, and Jack’s throat clogged for a minute.

  Damn straight the asshole wasn’t going to hurt them again.

  “Did he ever hurt you or Katie?” Jack asked quietly, knowing he had to do it but not sure he wanted to hear the answer.

  “No. But I don’t think he likes kids very much.”

  Thank God for small favors.

  “Can you tell me who he is?” He doubted Ben would answer, but it was worth a shot.

  Ben shook his head. “I can’t. I already broke my promise. He’s a really important man.” The boy looked as if he were going to cry again. His jaw was clenched and his hands balled up into fists. “I should have protected her. I should’ve done something.”

  “Ben, anything you could have done probably would have made things worse. It was best to let your mom handle it.”

  Ben glanced at Jack. “Please don’t tell her I told you. She’ll get real upset. She might make us leave. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “You were right to tell me, Ben.” Jack gave the boy another one-armed hug. He didn’t want to push him too much. “When your mom is better, I’ll talk to her. Maybe I can get her to trust me, too.”

  Afraid that Beth would try to get up by herself during the night, Jack grabbed a pillow and blanket and settled himself in the overstuffed chair in the corner of her room. Quinn had suggested he wake her every few hours anyway. And shit, he’d slept sitting in the front seat of a car plenty of times on stakeouts. With Beth sleeping soundly, he dozed off as soon as his head hit the back of the chair.

  The rustle of bedding woke him. Jack opened his eyes and scanned the dark room, settling his gaze on the bed. Beth moved restlessly under the covers, whimpering. He glanced at the bedside clock. Several hours had passed. It was time to rouse her anyway.

  He lurched to his feet and sat on the edge of the mattress. Moonlight streamed from the window across Beth’s face, casting her skin ghostly white. Tears leaked from her closed eyes.

  “Beth. It’s Jack. Wake up. You’re dreaming.” He placed his hand gently on her forearm.

  Her eyes snapped open. Her body jerked upright and flew backwards as if jolted with an electric shock. She huddled against the headboard like a wounded wild animal. Under the thin T-shirt, still spotted with dried blood, her chest heaved.

  Jesus H.

  Although he was tempted to back away and leave her to come around on her own, Jack held his position—and his breath. This was a make-or-break moment. She’d either accept or reject his help in the next couple of seconds. The fear that she’d push him away coiled tightly in his chest. “Beth, you’re safe. You’re having a nightmare.”

  Her haunted eyes blinked. She scanned the room and focused on him. Recognition dawned in her eyes, then humiliation. Slowly she sank down into a sitting position with her knees drawn up to her chest. She pressed the side of her face against her legs and closed her eyes, as if unable to endure his scrutiny.

  Jack commiserated. No one wanted an audience for an emotional breakdown. As she fought for composure, he wiped any trace of sympathy from his face. Not an easy task.

  Beth hadn’t moved, but pain shadowed her face. Jack guessed she was too exhausted to cover it up. The shadows under her eyes were dark as bruises, as if she hadn’t slept in a year. Then again, maybe she hadn’t. Not if she had nightmares like this one.

  She drew in an audible, ragged bre
ath, and Jack wished he’d been able to make her stay in the hospital overnight. He’d feel a lot better about the situation if she’d had that CAT scan.

  Her shoulders trembled. A protective instinct surged through Jack’s body.

  The sudden desire to hold her in his arms was overwhelming. It wasn’t sexual. Oh, who was he kidding, there was definitely a sexual component, but this was more than that. His arms ached with the desire to comfort her as she cowered, small and alone, against the headboard.

  He needed to hold her.

  Jack’s heart hammered as if he were walking on a frozen pond, waiting for it to break under his feet as he turned and slid backward, toward Beth. “Must have been some nightmare. A concussion can really mess you up. I’ve had my share.”

  Beth froze as he eased toward her. Their hips were nearly touching when he stopped. Stretching his legs out on the bed in front of him, he leaned back against the pillows and waited for a response. When she didn’t pull away, he slid his arm gently around her shoulders and drew her to his chest. She stiffened for a moment reflexively, but a few seconds later, she gave in with a sigh and sagged against him. Warmth surged through Jack’s chest. Her hair smelled like antiseptic instead of berries, but he inhaled anyway. Underneath the hospital smell was her scent, and Jack drew it in as affirmation that she was here, safe, in his arms.

  Her breathing slowed as she relaxed back into sleep and physical exhaustion won out over nerves. A shiver passed through her body. Careful of the bandage on her arm, Jack lifted the blanket over her shoulders and closed his eyes. The adrenaline that had kept him operating at full tilt during the crisis had dissipated, sapping all of his energy.

  As her sleep deepened, she pressed closer, as if her body sought more contact with his than her brain would allow when it was awake. Her heart thumped against his chest.

  Jack lay in the dark, savoring the feel of her soft body clinging to his until sleep claimed him as well.

  Jack blinked at the predawn light filtering through the blinds. Beth’s body was warm and relaxed against his. Her head rested on his chest. Her breasts pressed against his ribs. He could get used to waking up like this. But how would Beth feel about the vulnerability she’d shown last night? Or the fact that she’d slept in his arms all night long? Given her aversion to physical contact, he doubted she’d be comfortable with the situation.

  Slowly, and with some regret, he slid out from under her and gently eased her onto the mattress. The light fell across her face, highlighting her bruises against her pale skin. An ache formed in Jack’s chest. She looked like she’d been beaten. She didn’t stir as he rose and crept from the room.

  Downstairs, he grabbed a quick shower. Ben was already in the kitchen when Jack headed for the coffee pot.

  “I’ll feed the horses,” Ben volunteered.

  Jack considered Beth’s accident. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to Ben. “Wait for me. I’ll go with you.”

  Ten minutes later, the sun was barely above the trees as Jack stood in the barn aisle and stared at the ladder debris. Broken bits of woods of various sizes were scattered in a ten-foot arc. He would call a carpenter this morning, but he couldn’t leave this mess in the aisle. Leaning on his cane, he bent down and started tossing pieces of wood into a wheelbarrow.

  Ben slid the last stall door shut, latched it, and returned the scoop to the feed room. In the stalls around them, buckets banged against wood as the horses ate. “I gave them their grain, but I don’t know how I’ll get hay out of the loft.”

  “We’ll get the extension ladder out of the garage as soon as I get this cleared away.” Jack picked up a board. Bent, rusty nails protruded from the end.

  “Can I help?”

  “You could find me a rake.” Jack could not let Ben near this junk. God only knew when the kids last had a tetanus shot booster, and they’d spent more than enough time in the ER last night.

  Ben jogged off on his quest. Jack picked up a split ladder rung and moved to toss it into the pile when a mark on the edge caught his attention.

  What the hell?

  The narrow cut looked fresh and clean, and cut straight across the grain, not like it had broken by accident but as if someone had cut through it with a saw. Had to be a coincidence. The wood was old and worn. Chances were it had simply fallen apart. The only other possibility was that someone had done this intentionally, to try to hurt Beth. Jack’s gut clenched at the image of Beth’s battered body. He could still feel her curled up against him, soft and vulnerable in the dark.

  He glanced up at the loft, roughly twelve feet above his head, then looked down to reexamine the broken wood in his hands. Beth could have broken her neck in the fall, but sabotaging a ladder wasn’t an efficient way to try to kill a person. The chances of the attempt being successful were too slim.

  No. This had to be an accident.

  But as Jack gathered the remaining debris in the wheelbarrow and carted it back to the garage, the back of his neck began to itch.

  A suspicious accident was an excellent way to flush someone out of hiding.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Beth blinked. Daylight stabbed her eyeballs. She squinted at the bedside clock and winced. She hadn’t slept till noon since she was a teenager. Guilt edged into her thoughts. Were the kids OK? Although she knew in her gut that Jack would look after them, habitual panic crept over her. They had to be scared.

  She needed to get her butt out of bed. Seeing her up and moving would alleviate their fears. She also had to get down to the barn and retrieve her gun before Jack found it. Ben had stashed it the night before while Jack went for the car. Ben could handle the Sig, but the sight of the gun in his hands always brought Beth’s deepest fears bubbling to the surface.

  She sat up slowly. Her head throbbed, and her elbow was stiff and swollen. She grimaced. Pain shot through her cheek. Her body ached like she’d been beaten—she happened to know just what that felt like. On the bright side, being upright did not generate dizziness or nausea. Not bad, considering how far she’d fallen.

  Physical assessment complete, her hand drifted to the indentation of Jack’s head and shoulders on the mattress. She lifted the pillow and held it to her face. Closing her eyes, she let his masculine scent waft over her. For a second, she longed to feel his body next to hers, solid and warm, fooling her brain into thinking that everything would be all right. Her body tensed. One innocent night together and his absence left her bereft.

  She’d let him get too close.

  There was nothing she could do about it today. With her injuries, she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. The estate was the safest place for the children. James had said so. And he was the only person she truly trusted. Not for the first time, she thought she should have told him her whole, humiliating story. He wouldn’t have doubted her. But what could one elderly man do? James didn’t have money or any kind of power.

  But Jack did. Jack could help them.

  Should she tell him everything? Not only did Jack have the financial resources, he’d been a cop. A homicide detective. He’d seen things far worse than domestic abuse and attempted murder. Surely he’d believe her. Wouldn’t he?

  That was the real problem. She just didn’t know for sure. Her story was pretty far-fetched. In her current physically vulnerable state, the risk was too great.

  She dangled her legs off the mattress for a few seconds before pushing herself to her feet. Her knees wobbled but held as she shuffled into the bathroom. One glance in the mirror and her eyes filled. She’d been hurt before, but Richard had been smart enough to keep his fists away from her face. A few broken ribs hadn’t been a problem, but a congressman’s wife couldn’t have a black eye.

  The bright lights emphasized the bruise on her temple. Her eye was black. Between the bruising, her pallor, and the bandage on her forehead, she looked like a walking corpse, something out of Night of the Living Dead.

  She eyed the concealer and pressed powder in the medicine cabinet. No
t going to happen. There wasn’t enough makeup in Hollywood to make her look alive. Plus, the skin on her face was too tender. The best she was going to manage this morning was clean. And that was going to hurt.

  Beth took a deep breath, turned the tap to warm, and washed the dried blood from her face and hair. Stripping off her bloodstained clothes, she scrubbed the hospital smell from her skin. A few minutes later she eased into a pair of sweats and an oversized T-shirt.

  Even with a clear head, Beth took a firm hold on the banister as she descended the curved stairs. Her knees were still shaky, her body ridiculously fatigued from washing up.

  Shock lit up Jack’s face as she stepped into the kitchen.

  “What are you doing out of bed?” He leaped to his feet, limped across the kitchen, and cupped her uninjured elbow. “Why didn’t you call for me? You shouldn’t have come down the stairs by yourself.”

  Beth barely registered the words. Instead her attention focused on the warmth of his palm on her arm. Heat flowed from his skin to hers. His aftershave drifted down, and Beth resisted the urge to bury her face in his neck for a deep sniff. If she did, he’d wrap his arms around her and pull her against his long, hard body. She already knew what it felt like to be embraced by his strength, and she leaned toward him like a plant growing toward the sun.

  Fire gathered in her belly. She froze. She was in deep trouble. Over her head, sitting on the bottom of the ocean deep. She should have been embarrassed about her behavior the night before. But her whacked-out body chose to flood with pleasure at the physical contact instead, as if it knew where it belonged—in his arms.

  Clearing her throat she managed to reply, “I’m fine, really.”

  He led her to a chair and eased her down into it. His hand slid up her arm to squeeze her shoulder for a second. The tension in his fingers transmitted the concern he didn’t voice.

  Beth lifted her eyes to his. There was something else there in addition to worry. Desire? No way. Impossible. Not the way she looked this morning.