by Pamela Tyner
“I guess that could put a crimp in your love life.” She bit the inside of her bottom lip to keep from smiling.
“I’m not worried about my love life, but as I said last night, the less people who know you’re here the better.” He shrugged and put the truck in gear. “But there’s nothing we can do about it now.”
As Clint pulled onto the road, Tricia mentally scolded herself. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right, and it could cause a problem.
In her imagination, she could see the scene taking place. Matt shows up in town flashing her picture and dropping her name. In no time at all, he finds someone who’s more than willing to tell him about a stranger in town named Tricia. Of course, they’d also be obligated to pass on the gossip about this mysterious woman who had appeared out of nowhere. With a smile and a wink, they’d inform him that she was the very latest in the long line of Clint Owens’s lovers.
Tricia shoved the scene from her mind. Matt wouldn’t show up, so she didn’t need to be concerned with it. He had no idea where to find her, and he couldn’t possibly search every small town in Oklahoma. But even though she reassured herself, uneasiness nibbled at her.
“Anything else you need besides a toothbrush?” Clint asked.
“No, that’s all.”
And she’d be darn grateful to get it. That morning when she’d asked Clint if he had an extra toothbrush, he’d offered to let her use his, but she’d declined. Later, when she squirted a line of toothpaste across her index finger and brushed, she wished she hadn’t been so quick to refuse his offer. Thankfully, combined with the floss and mouthwash, it had been somewhat effective, but it wasn’t an experience she wanted to repeat.
Minutes later, Clint pulled into a parking space in front of a drugstore. Tricia jumped out of the truck and practically ran in order to enter the store ahead of him. She had been following him all morning. Let him follow her for a change.
Walking down the aisle, she scanned the signs hanging from the ceiling. When she found one that sported the title dental hygiene, she turned and followed the passageway until she located a display of toothbrushes.
She examined the different types of brushes that hung from metal hangers on the shelf. Unsatisfied with the selection on the top of the display, she crouched down to inspect the ones on the bottom rows.
“Good God,” Clint muttered. “Here we go again.”
Because she felt this ridiculous childish urge to irritate him even further, she took an exorbitant amount of time choosing a brush, treating the decision almost as if it were a life-altering one.
After Clint had muttered numerous versions of hurry up, she finally picked an item, turned, and held it out to him. “Here, if you’re in such a hurry, let’s…”
She froze at the sight of a policeman standing not five feet away. His blue uniform was pressed to perfection, not a wrinkle in sight, and a gun hung from his belt to lie against his thigh. He was studying a display of over-the-counter medication. Taking a bottle from the shelf, he turned in their direction.
Tricia gasped as her heart skipped a beat.
The rational side of her brain told her he was only walking past them on the way to the cash register. But she knew any second now his gaze would collide with hers. What he would see in her eyes would be fear.
To a policeman, a fearful gaze would surely be a sign of guilt. That, combined with the fact that she was a stranger in town, would no doubt arouse his suspicions. It might even make him suspicious enough to start digging around.
Clint tugged on the toothbrush she still held. “Tricia?”
She released it, grabbed two fistfuls of Clint’s shirt, and pulled him toward her, covering his mouth with hers.
She heard the policeman’s footsteps on the tiled floor as he walked by them. She gave him ample time to move past them before she ended the kiss.
Clint looked at her with confusion and suspicion in his eyes. “What was that all about?”
She gave a weak smile. “I guess I just couldn’t resist your charms a second longer.” She had hoped for her words to sound light, but the effect had been shot to hell when her voice had actually broken as she spoke.
“Bullshit.” Clint’s gaze shifted past her for a second. Then his eyes met hers again. “Damn it, Tricia. What have you done?”
She shrugged. “I kissed you.”
“Yeah, and I know exactly why you did it.”
He took hold of her upper arm and pulled her down the aisle. When they reached the cash register, where sure enough the policeman was shelling out money for his purchase, she lowered her head and turned it away slightly in what she hoped was a casual manner.
As they exited the door, bells chimed and she jumped slightly in response. Relax. Those are the same bells that chimed when you entered the store—it’s nothing to worry about.
Clint opened the passenger door of his truck and pushed her inside. He slammed it shut and rounded the hood. Once he was seated behind the wheel, he turned toward her. “We’re not moving until you tell me what’s going on. I want the truth, and I want it now.”
Tricia’s mind groped for a reply. What could she tell him that would pacify him? She needed something believable and brief. There was no time for long explanations, her objective being to get Clint to start the engine and exit the parking lot before Mr. Policeman strolled out of the store.
A rap against the driver’s side window had her shifting her gaze. At the sight of the shiny badge pinned on the blue uniform, her body tensed and her breathing ceased.
Chapter 4
Tricia watched silently as Clint rolled down the window. With each turn of the knob her body tensed a degree further until she was as tightly wound as a coiled metal spring.
“Hi, David,” Clint said.
“Hey, Clint. How’s it going?”
“Can’t complain. How’s everything with you?”
“Pretty good.”
Tricia’s heart raced, pounding forcefully against her breastbone. When she became lightheaded she realized if she didn’t do something, she was either going to hyperventilate or pass out. That would be guaranteed to make Mr. Policeman suspicious. She focused on her breathing, concentrating on inhaling and exhaling in a slow, deep, rhythmic pattern.
She studied David’s face for any sign of misgiving or alertness and found none. Nor was there anything in his words or tone of voice that should cause her concern. The conversation between the two men was casual, friendly.
Relax. He doesn’t look like he’s about to whip out his gun and order you to exit the vehicle and spread ’em.
“I know you were a little preoccupied back there.” David glanced briefly at Tricia and smiled before he turned his attention back to Clint. “But didn’t you forget something?”
When Clint didn’t respond, David gestured with his hand. Tricia followed the direction he indicated, and her gaze landed on the toothbrush clutched in Clint’s hand. The toothbrush they hadn’t paid for.
“Damn.” Clint shook his head. “I can’t believe I did that. I’ll go take care of it.”
“Well, like I said, you were preoccupied with…” David’s words trailed off as he obviously waited for the blank to be filled in.
“Tricia,” Clint supplied.
“Nice to meet you, Tricia. I’m David Warren.”
His smile looked warm and sincere. Kindness was reflected in his brown eyes. It should have eased her fears. It didn’t.
Her mouth was as dry as a desert. She swallowed, her throat so constricted that it was almost painful. If she tried to speak, she would bet it would only come out as a croak. She attempted to smile, but the best she managed to do was to drag the corners of her lips up the smallest degree. With that pitiful excuse for a smile, she nodded toward David in answer to his greeting.
“So, tell me, Tricia,” David said, “you look like a nice girl, how did you end up with a guy like this?” He tilted his head toward Clint.
Tricia licked her dry lips as the ba
nd around her throat tightened another notch. David stared at her as he waited for an answer. And waited. And then waited some more.
“Should we tell him the truth?” Clint asked.
She jerked her head around and stared at him with widened eyes.
Clint’s gaze shifted to David. “I won her in a poker game.”
At his words, relief seeped through her body.
David laughed. “I’m sure you realize gambling is illegal here, but with a prize like that, even I would have been tempted.”
Clint held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I couldn’t resist.”
“Hey, Jack’s singing Saturday night at Bushwhackers, you going to come hear him?”
“Hadn’t planned on it. I’ve heard him sing before.”
“So have I, a million times. But I’ve got to be there. Got to chase off the hecklers. And if I have to suffer through it, I think you should too. Besides, I’m sure Tricia would like a night out on the town. Tricia…”
She glanced up at David.
“Tell him to take you,” David urged.
Tricia looked into Clint’s eyes. With a great deal of concentration, she might be able to force a few words from her throat.
“Take me,” she whispered.
David chuckled. “Now, Clint, how could you possibly refuse that request?”
His gaze locked with hers, Clint cleared his throat. “I can’t refuse it.”
“Good. I’ll see you there. Right now I’ve got to get back to work. Don’t forget about the toothbrush.”
Clint looked over at David and nodded. “I won’t. Talk to you later.”
David headed for his patrol car. The panic that had been crushing Tricia’s chest eased a bit with each step he took. It diminished even further when he pulled out of the parking lot and the car disappeared from sight.
“I need to go pay for this,” Clint said. “I’ll be right back, and then we’re going to talk.”
Tricia nodded. She stared out the front window and watched him walk back into the store. Releasing a shaky breath, she rubbed a hand over her forehead. When he returned he was going to interrogate her, demand answers. Answers she didn’t want to give him.
Within minutes, Clint exited the store. Once he was seated in the truck, he said, “Okay, Tricia, spill it.”
“Can we get out of here first?” she asked softly. “Then I’ll tell you all about it.”
The long drive back to the ranch would provide her with some much-needed additional time. Maybe she could think of something to tell him—other than the truth—that would satisfy him. If not, if she actually did have to tell him the truth, it wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have in the middle of a parking lot.
The engine didn’t start, and she could feel Clint’s eyes boring into her. “Please,” she added.
Without a word, Clint started the truck and pulled onto the highway. Air rushed inside the cab of the truck from the still open window, blowing Tricia’s hair into her face. She pushed the hair behind her ear and glanced over at Clint. He rolled the window up about two-thirds of the way and grabbed a cigarette from his shirt pocket. Tricia turned her head and stared out the passenger window. Silence and the smell of cigarette smoke filled the air.
When they entered the house, Tricia took a seat on one end of the couch, and Clint dropped down on the opposite end. He twisted his body to face her and rested his arm across the back of the coach.
“Well, I’m waiting.” A moment later, when she hadn’t yet responded, he added, “We can sit here all day if we have to, but neither one of us is leaving this room until I know what’s going on.”
Might as well tell him and get it over with.
She took a deep breath and admitted her crime.
“What? I can’t hear you, Tricia, you’re mumbling.”
She cleared her throat and repeated herself. “I robbed a store.”
At her confession, he drew back slightly, disbelief in his eyes. “No, you didn’t. You wouldn’t do something like that.” His words sounded so final, like he had absolutely no doubt about her innocence.
“Actually, Matt robbed a store. I didn’t know he was going to, but I was there.”
“Tell me everything,” he coaxed. “From the beginning.”
Tricia ran a hair through her hair. “Matt had been drinking. He ran out of beer and wanted to go buy some more. He was really drunk, and I was worried he’d have a wreck, so I drove him.”
“Of course you did. Because if he had a wreck and killed himself, what a shame that would be.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.
Tricia narrowed her eyes at him. “If he had a wreck and killed someone else, that would be a shame.”
Clint waved his hand in a gesture for her to continue. “Go on.”
“It was late, after midnight, and most places were closed, so I drove to a convenience store. When we got there, Matt went inside and I waited in the car. He was in there for a while, longer than he should have been. I know now that he was waiting for the other customers to leave. I was tired, and I wanted to go home and back to bed, so I went inside to see what was taking him so long. He was robbing the store. He had a gun pointed at the clerk and was waiting for the man to empty the register.”
The young clerk had looked terrified, his face pale and his hands shaking as he grabbed bills from the register and shoved them into a paper bag.
“And you couldn’t see this from the car?”
Tricia shook her head.
“Then what happened?”
“When I came in, Matt started yelling at me—why hadn’t I waited in the car, that kind of thing. Then the clerk gave him the money and we left. We went back home.”
“Nobody got hurt?”
“No, thank God.”
“When did this happen?”
“The night I left.”
“Ah. So, that’s why you…” He waved his hand in the air vaguely. “Argued.”
She nodded and focused on a point just over Clint’s shoulder, as the events of that night flashed before her in vivid detail. Shock had prompted her to say things she normally would have never dreamed of uttering to Matt. He’d screamed at her to shut up, called her some vicious names. Then his fist connected with the side of her face so hard she stumbled backward and would have fallen had she not landed against the wall. He grabbed the front of her shirt and shook her over and over again. With each shake, her head had pounded against the wall.
Absently, she rubbed the back of her head. There was still a knot there, although it was no longer painful. Her mind filled with images of the monstrous look of rage on Matt’s face, the pure evil that radiated from his eyes. Just the memory was enough to make her shiver in fear. Shoving the thoughts away, she struggled to regain some semblance of composure.
Dropping her hand down on the back of the couch, she replied, “Yes, we…argued.” When her voice trembled, she winced.
“You want to tell me about it?” Clint asked, his tone gentle. His hand covered hers, his thumb stroking her skin.
His touch was comforting, encouraging. And completely unwelcome. She slid her hand out from under his and placed it in her lap.
“No, I don’t.” She wanted to forget it.
Sharing the details with Clint would serve no purpose. It would, however, revive a multitude of emotions that she had no desire to dwell on—shame, humiliation, degradation. Worst of all, she suspected it would result in Clint’s blue eyes filling with pity. She didn’t want, or need, his pity.
“Okay.” He nodded slightly. “Well, obviously he didn’t just let you leave. How did you manage it?”
“I waited until he passed out.” She had laid on the floor in a crumpled heap, her body aching and blood dripping from her nose for what seemed like hours.
“Why didn’t you go to the police?”
“I don’t know. I was scared. I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t thinking straight.” Her only lucid thought at the time had been that she wanted to go home.
To go back to the only place in the world where she felt safe and secure.
“Tricia, I don’t see the problem here. You really didn’t do anything.”
She shook her head in disbelief. How could the man not see the problem?
“Clint, I was an accessory to a robbery. I drove him there. It was obvious we knew each other. He even called me by name. And I drove the car when we left.”
“You weren’t the one who robbed the store. We go to the police, tell them the story, they arrest Matt, he goes to jail for robbery, and you don’t have to worry about him anymore.”
Her gaze stayed level and steady on his. “No.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not going to jail.”
“You didn’t do anything. They won’t arrest you.”
“I think they would. Maybe, hopefully, the truth would come out, and I’d be found innocent, but until then I’d have to stay in jail for no telling how long.”
“You don’t know that.”
“It’s not a chance I’m willing to take. One of my mom’s cousins went to jail. I don’t know what for, I was just a kid, didn’t even know the man—but he died there. He was stabbed by another prisoner, and he died. The people there are tough and mean. I’ve had enough tough and mean to last me a lifetime. And,” she continued, “I have no desire to become any woman’s girlfriend.”
Clint rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “Let me talk to David. Just ask him, hypothetically, in this situation, what would happen.”
“No. I’m sure he’s not stupid. He’d immediately put two and two together, and then he’d start digging around.”
“He’s a friend.”
“He’s a policeman,” she countered.
“Do you want to spend the rest of your life trying to avoid the police? Wondering if you’re going to be arrested for something you didn’t even do? Your best bet is to get it cleared up now.”
“If I went to the police, and Matt went to jail, eventually he’d get out. After a couple of years in prison, he’d really be angry. He’d want revenge against the person who put him there. And who do you think he’d hold responsible? The man would come after me with a vengeance.”