Protecting Tricia

by Pamela Tyner

  He had hoped Tricia would agree to accept his help, but, given their past, he’d known there was a possibility she’d resist. Could he have actually gone through with tying her up, especially after he’d seen the fear in her eyes? He didn’t know, but he was damn grateful he didn’t have to find out the answer to that question. Her anger he could handle, but fear he wasn’t so sure about.

  Still, he couldn’t—wouldn’t—just stand back and do nothing while her stubborn pride got her killed.

  There were bruises on her face, for God’s sake. She’d done a fairly decent job covering them with makeup, and, at a quick glance, they weren’t obvious, but upon close examination…

  The sight of them had been all it’d taken to make him feel completely justified in doing whatever was necessary to keep her safe. Clint knew exactly what an abusive man was capable of, just as he knew that many abused women—for reasons he couldn’t understand—refused help.

  If he had forced Kelly to accept his help, she might still be alive. Pain stabbed at his heart as a picture of his younger sister flashed in his mind.

  He’d be damned if he’d make the same mistake again. He would keep Tricia safe, even if she fought him every step of the way.

  Clint fumbled in his shirt pocket for a cigarette. He’d been trying to quit smoking for months and had finally gotten down to just three cigarettes a day, which he normally saved for after meals. But if there was ever a time he needed a smoke, it was now. In his race to reach Tricia, he’d broken every traffic law in the book, tormented by images of what might happen if he arrived too late.

  After cracking the window, he lit up, inhaled deeply, and waited for the nicotine to calm his frayed nerves. As he smoked, he glanced at Tricia out of the corner of his eye.

  Her lips were clamped together in a thin, angry line. He’d gotten only the briefest glimpse of her face before she shifted her position, the motion causing her hair to fall over her shoulder, obstructing his view.

  Clint returned his gaze to the road, and an image filled his mind of what those lips had looked like when they were swollen and wet from his kisses. Even after all these years, he still remembered how they tasted. Sweet, almost to the point of being addictive. He knew what they felt like. Soft and warm. Just as he knew that all that long, brown hair of hers felt like silk in his hands.

  Get a hold of yourself! You’re lusting after a woman who hates you. One you should have gotten over years ago.

  When Tricia ran a hand through her hair, pushing it away from her face, Clint’s gaze landed on her cheek, on the exact spot where the bruises lurked beneath her makeup.

  He jerked his gaze away and gripped the steering wheel harder, thinking how much he’d love to break that son-of-a-bitch in half.

  It took numerous deep breaths and a great deal of intense focused effort before he finally had himself back under control. Grinding out the cigarette in the ashtray, he glanced over at Tricia to find her looking down at her wrists, rubbing them as if trying to massage away an ache.

  His body stiffened at the realization that, like Matt, he had inflicted pain on her. A tiny voice inside his head tried to rationalize it—he hadn’t been trying to hurt her. But regardless, the end result had been the same.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  Obviously, you did, you jerk.

  She lifted her head and glared at him. Those green eyes which had once gazed at him with happiness and love were now filled with raw hostility.

  “I’ll live,” she bit out. She stared at him a moment and then said, “I’m curious, Clint. What do you think your wife’s going to say about you bringing me home with you?”

  For a brief second, he wondered how she knew he had gotten married. Then he realized she knew it the same way he’d known about the events of her life...Jenny. But apparently Jenny hadn’t informed her about the divorce.

  “I don’t have a wife.”

  “Oh? Did you screw around on her too?”

  He clenched his teeth. Don’t take the bait. She’s just trying to piss you off.

  “What are you doing here, anyway?” she asked, her tone implying that his mere presence was a violation of some federal law. “The last I heard, you were in Texas.”

  “I moved back about a year ago.”

  He glanced down at the speedometer and forced himself to ease up on the gas. The last thing he needed right now was to get pulled over. They were on the back roads, and the chances of a cop being anywhere near were slim, but it wasn’t a chance he was willing to take. Especially since Matt had relatives on the police force, which meant word would surely make its way back to him that Tricia had been spotted in town with Clint.

  “Does the Chevy belong to you?” he asked.

  “Who else would it belong to?”

  “If it’s Matt’s, he can file charges against you for auto theft.”

  “It’s mine.”

  “The title’s in your name?”

  “That’s what I just said, isn’t it?” she snapped.

  Clint reached for the glove compartment, his hand brushing against Tricia’s leg in the process. She jerked her leg to the side. Ignoring her, he grabbed his cellphone and punched in Neil’s number.

  “Hey,” he said when Neil picked up before the first ring was even completed. “We just got out of town. Has Matt shown up?”

  “No, but I’m sure he will. I’m sending Jenny and AJ to stay with her parents, because I don’t even want to think about what might happen if Matt shows up while I’m not here.”

  “Good idea, but you can’t tell her parents the truth about why they’re there.”

  Jenny’s mom loved to talk, and she often let things slip out before she even realized she’d done it.

  “I know,” Neil said. “We’re not sure what excuse we’re going to give them, but we’ll come up with something.”

  “You’re sure no one knows Tricia was at your house?”

  “Pretty sure.”

  “Good. Are you going to have time to bring her car and clothes out to my house tonight?”

  “It’s about a five hour drive to your place and back, and I’ve got to work tomorrow. I’m already getting docked for the time I missed today, and it’s going to be pretty rough on us if I miss any more hours this week. I’ll bring it out tonight if I have to, but can it wait until the weekend?”

  “I understand. It can wait,” Clint said. “Did you get her car out of sight?”

  “Yeah. I moved it into the workshop, locked the door, and covered the window so no one can see inside.”

  “Okay. Keep me updated. We’ll see you this weekend. And make damn sure you’re not followed.” Clint disconnected the call, tossed the phone back into the glove compartment, and relayed the conversation to Tricia.

  “I’m so glad the two of you have taken it upon yourselves to decide how things should be handled,” she muttered.

  “We’re just trying to keep you safe.”

  Tricia pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I can take care of myself.”

  Yeah, those marks on her face were a glowing testament of how capable she was of taking care of herself.

  “How in the hell did you ever end up with that bastard?” The question erupted from Clint’s mouth before he could stop it. But since he couldn’t take it back, he might as well forge ahead. “You knew what he was like. The entire town knew what he was like. The Tricia I knew wouldn’t have had anything to do with him.”

  His words sounded harsh and accusing, even to his own ears, and he felt a twinge of guilt. This was not the way to handle things, and he knew it, but the whole situation made him so angry he felt like he might explode.

  She gave him a considering stare. “I figured Neil told you the whole sordid story.”

  “He told me a story, I just don’t believe it. He told me you were lonely, vulnerable, that you needed someone, and Matt was there. That’s bullshit.” Realizing he had practically spit out the last two words, he stopped, took a deep breath, and struggled
to soften his tone. “You’re too smart to let someone con you like that.”

  “Apparently, I’m not. After all, it’s not the first time someone’s fooled me.”

  Clint silently urged himself not to respond. Now was not the time to deal with that. They had more pressing issues to consider.

  Maybe Neil had been right. Maybe it had been temporary insanity on her part. It was possible that in a moment of weakness she’d let Matt weasel his way into her life. But why had it taken her so long to come to her senses?

  “You were with him for what? Three years? How long was he abusing you?”

  The fact that she cringed, just the tiniest bit, at his question didn’t go unnoticed. She straightened her back and lifted her chin, the very picture of a woman trying desperately to hang on to her pride.

  “He only hit me once.”

  Clint snorted. “I know what Matt’s like. I find it hard to believe he waited three years before he started hitting you.”

  “Believe whatever you like. This discussion is over.”

  Deciding that retreat was the best strategy—for the moment—Clint returned his attention to the road.

  * * * *

  Tricia stared out the window at the passing trees and wondered again how much further it was to Clint’s house. They’d left Lexington hours ago. She was tired, her head ached, and her throat was parched.

  Shifting in her seat, she looked over at Clint. “Where exactly do you live?” she demanded. “We’ve been driving forever.”

  “We’re almost there.”

  Although she had no desire to have a conversation with Clint, she had to know the answer to the question that had been nagging at her for the last fifty miles.

  “Were you at home when Neil called you?” Because if he had been, then Neil must have known for hours that Matt was in town, yet he hadn’t warned her and Jenny.

  “No. I was at my mom’s house.”

  Assuming Mrs. Owens still lived in the same place, Clint had been approximately forty-five minutes away.

  He glanced over at Tricia. As if reading her mind, he said, “Neil was parked at the end of the road. Matt wasn’t getting to the house without Neil seeing him.”

  Tricia turned and stared out the passenger window once again. From all indications, Matt had been in town for at least an hour, probably longer. He’d had plenty of time to arrive at Jenny and Neil’s. So why hadn’t he?

  He’d been playing with her. Over the course of their relationship, she’d learned all his games. Make-Her-Wait-and-Worry-and-Sweat was one of his favorites. He’d probably made it known that he was in town, anticipating the information would reach her, then basked in the knowledge that she’d be in a state of utter panic.

  Tricia supposed she owed Neil a debt of gratitude for not calling the police. Not long after she’d arrived at their house, he had urged her to file battery charges against Matt and apply for a restraining order. Her reaction to his suggestion had apparently been sufficient enough for him to understand exactly how much she opposed police involvement. And she had good reason to oppose it.

  But to call Clint… Neil should have discussed the situation with her. Instead, he’d phoned Clint, and they’d concocted a plan, and then proceeded to carry it out, all without even consulting her.

  Still, as wrong as it had been, Neil had acted out of love and concern. Tricia knew that. Clint was another matter entirely. That He-Man stunt he’d pulled was barbaric and intolerable.

  Yes, at that point, she had already resigned herself to accepting his help, but she had wanted to gather her things and leave with a little bit of dignity left intact. Clint dashed that hope when he’d tossed her over his shoulder and forced her to comply.

  She was jarred from her thoughts when Clint pulled the truck to a stop at a ranch several miles off the main road. As he got out of the truck, Tricia scanned the area. Her gaze swept past the single-story white house to the barn and corrals behind it. Endless miles of fenced-in pastures and woods stretched out in all directions.

  When Clint opened the passenger door, Tricia grabbed her purse and slid out of the vehicle.

  “This is great,” she muttered. “If Matt finds me here, he’ll be able to shoot me dead without worrying about anyone hearing the gunshot and screams.”

  Clint stared at her for a moment as if her words had shocked him. “He won’t find you, and if he does, he’ll have to worry about me.”

  Turning, Clint headed for the house, Tricia following behind him.

  “What makes you so sure he won’t find me here?”

  “I haven’t seen anyone from Lexington other than Neil and Jenny since I’ve been back. No one knows about this place.”

  “Well, let’s hope they didn’t tell anyone.”

  “Why would they?” he asked, unlocking the front door. “And even if they did, do you honestly think Matt, or anyone else in Lexington, would ever imagine that you’d be with me?”

  No. Everyone in town was aware of the incident that had occurred between them. It had been the main topic of conversation for months. No one would believe she’d be within a thousand yards of him.

  When they entered the house, Tricia glanced around the living room. A dark leather couch, flanked on each side by end tables, and a TV represented the extent of the furnishings. It was neat and clean and definitely a man’s house. The walls were bare, no frilly little throw pillows on the couch, no cute little knick-knacks anywhere, just pure simplicity.

  At the sound of the door locking, she looked back to find Clint staring at her. She wondered what he was thinking. Probably marveling at how stupid she’d been to end up like she had.

  Let him think what he wanted.

  Sadly, she’d agree with that assessment.

  “Can I have a glass of water?” She’d spent the last hour longing for a cool liquid to quench her dry throat.

  “Sure.”

  She followed him into the kitchen and set her purse on the table. The room was spotless. Probably easy to keep it that way since it was barren. With the exception of a coffeemaker, the counters were clear.

  Clint removed a glass from a cabinet, dropped in a few ice cubes, and filled it with tap water. As soon as he passed the glass to her, she drained it.

  “Jesus,” he breathed.

  Tricia’s eyes widened in alarm. “What?”

  He took the glass from her, set it on the table, and then grabbed her hand. Turning it over, he examined the underside, softly trailing his thumb along an ugly dark bruise.

  Tricia’s heart clenched at his unexpected gentle touch, which reminded her of a time when things had been different between them. A time when gentle touches and soft words had been commonplace.

  When Clint looked up at her, his eyes filled with remorse, she knew he believed himself to be responsible for the mark.

  “I already had that bruise,” she explained.

  He expelled a shaky breath, relief washing over his face. “I’m sorry if I hurt you. If you had only cooperated, I wouldn’t have had to—”

  She yanked her hand away. “Oh yeah, it’s my fault. Matt used to tell me the same thing. Everything was always my fault.”

  Clint stared at her silently. His expression was unreadable, but a muscle flexed in his jaw, a sure sign of annoyance.

  “Make yourself at home. I have work to do.” He headed for the back door, opened it, then paused and looked back over his shoulder. His gaze caught hers, held it. “Tricia, I won’t let Matt hurt you.”

  His tone was one of reassurance, and she knew the words were true. Clint might be guilty of a great many things, and she might despise the man, but she knew he’d never let any physical harm come to her. Or to any woman for that matter. Physically harming a woman Clint would never allow, but other types of damage were a different story altogether.

  “Make sure you lock the door. I’ll be close to the house. If you need me, just shout.”

  Once Clint stepped outside and shut the door, Tricia leaned against the
kitchen table, crossed her arms over her chest, and considered her situation.

  She had one insane man hunting her down and was in the company of another who obviously had no qualms about using force and threats to get what he wanted. This new beginning of hers wasn’t off to a very good start.

  Chapter 2

  What a mess. How did my life end up like this?

  Tricia halted her thoughts before they could progress any further. How her life had reached this point was unimportant. All that mattered now was fixing it and moving on. She would reclaim control of her life, and this time around she wouldn’t screw it up.

  Pushing herself away from the kitchen table, she walked over to the back door and turned the lock. Just as Clint had ordered her to do. As the bolt slid into place, she muttered, “Yes, it certainly looks like I’m the one in control.”

  She crossed the room, pushed back the thin cotton curtains that hung over the window, and looked out across the backyard to see Clint entering the barn.

  Over the years she had tried to forget Clint Owens had ever existed, but her attempts had been completely unsuccessful. Eventually, she’d accepted the fact that he would remain firmly ingrained in her memory forever.

  A woman never forgets her first love, her first lover, her first broken heart. Clint had been all her firsts.

  A phone rang in the background, and Tricia jerked her head around toward the direction of the sound. She briefly wondered if she should answer it, then shrugged and ignored it. After the third ring, an answering machine picked up.

  This is Clint. Leave a message.

  Short and to the point.

  “Clint, are you there?”

  At the sound of Jenny’s voice, Tricia hurried to the living room. She glanced around, located the phone on an end table, and grabbed the receiver.

  “Jenny.”

  “Tricia, I just wanted to make sure you got there and everything’s okay.”