Dying for Love

by Angel Nicholas

  A drop of water trailed down his thigh, joining another headed south. Water dripped onto her expensive, designer, World Jeffet rug. The nerve.

  He stepped one way, she danced the other. Another giggle welled.

  “Hold still, wench. I intend to teach you a lesson.”

  “Oh, really?” Giggling like an escaped lunatic, she darted left when he went right. “Since you’d have to catch me, and that doesn’t seem a very real possibility, I’m not worried.”

  “Why isn’t it a possibility?”

  Grace did her best to look solemn. “Well, you are sooo much older.” His eyes narrowed, “And heavier.” Muscles flexed in his arms. “And really…horribly…grossly…” He took a step forward. “…out of shape.”

  “Oh, it’s on.”

  He dodged around the chair. The incessant giggling made it hard to run, but she lit for her bedroom and slammed the door. His palm slapped against the door panel and kept it from closing. She scrambled to the other side of her bed.

  He glowered. “Old? Grossly out of shape?”

  Her sides hurt from laughing. Another burst of giggles weakened her knees. Tears of laughter clouded her vision. He scaled her bed, grabbed the front of her towel, and dragged her onto the bed beneath him. She couldn’t stop laughing.

  Matt leaned over her, intimidation melting into a smile. Not that she’d bought his scowl. His warm brown eyes made a mockery of the most menacing expression. Hard arm around her waist, he pulled her snugly into his side.

  Her giggles subsided and contentment crept in. Too warm, happy and sated to contemplate moving—even for breakfast—she tangled her legs with his.

  Matt broke the comfortable silence. “My mom and step-dad invited my brother and I for dinner tonight. I told them I’d be bringing you.”

  Dinner with the family? She stiffened. Not just no, but hell no. She didn’t do families. Especially families of men she was dating. Meeting the family implied things. To all parties. It went against her creed.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m busy tonight.”

  She slipped from beneath him, snagging her robe where it lay draped over her nightstand, tugged it on and went into her bathroom. Brushing her teeth suddenly seemed terribly important. Dental hygiene shouldn’t be overlooked.

  Matt followed. “I was under the impression we were spending the weekend together.”

  Spitting the toothpaste into the sink, she rinsed her mouth and tried to marshal her thoughts. She cared for him. Throwing away their right-now relationship because she knew it wouldn’t last long-term was silly.

  Her belly cramped and a wave of panic hit, but she fought it off. This was ridiculous. No way did she care for him that much, for pity’s sake. This had to be delicately handled. No matter what, she didn’t want to lose him. Not before she had to.

  Bracing her hands on the sink, she met his gaze. “Look, Matt. I’m not a meet-the-parents kind of girl. Maybe I’ve seen Meet the Fockers too many times.” Not so much as a twitch. Okay. That joke fell flat. Kinda like his eyes had gone flat. Uh, yeah. Not good. “You confided in me about your mom being sick, and that was really sweet and I appreciate it. The thing is, my last foster mom died of cancer.”

  Some of the stiffness left his body, but he didn’t exactly relax. “That’s all it is? Bad memories? It’s not because you don’t see our relationship going anywhere and would rather spare me the pain of my whole family knowing?”

  Wow. That came out of left field. He couldn’t read minds, so what brought it on? Ah. Lightbulb moment. She cocked her head. “Is this past experience rearing its ugly head?”

  He shrugged. Stuffing her guilt, she flattened her palm against his bare chest. “Between your mom’s illness and the newness of…” She gestured between them. “…this, I’m just not ready. Capisce?”

  His lopsided grin tugged unfairly at her heartstrings.

  He pulled her close. “Yeah. Sorry for getting defensive.”

  Remorse popped up to sit uncomfortably in her tummy. Winding her arms around his neck, she pretended to ponder his words. “Huh. I could have sworn that was offensive. Then again, I’m not real up to par on my football terminology.”

  Matt groaned. “Nobody mixes football and golf terms. There are laws, woman.”

  Grace nudged her hips forward. “There should be laws about this. Did you eat a whole crate of oysters before you came over?”

  “You’re complaining? You women are never satisfied.”

  “You women?” Arching her brows, she pulled away. “You act like there’s a whole harem tucked away in my closet.”

  She went into her bedroom to find something with a little more coverage. Feeling his gaze on her, she glanced over her shoulder. He stood with a shoulder resting against the door frame, arms crossed, emphasizing really nice pecs.

  “Get some clothes on, stud muffin. Then I’ll let you feed me. Surprisingly enough, I’ve worked up an impressive appetite. I might eat an entire side of beef.”

  Dimple winking, he straightened. “I’d better make sure my wallet can handle the abuse.”

  “As if.”

  Hours later, Matt left for his family dinner and Grace sat on her balcony, staring over the river. As she’d grown into adulthood, one thing had remained firmly planted in her heart and mind. Relationships weren’t for forever. People came for a day, or a semester, and then went. Some stuck it out for a whole year. Until high school, each new school year had brought a new foster family.

  A few hazy memories of being pried from the arms of foster mothers lingered. In her heart, those foster mothers had clung to her too. Her head shook in disgust every time her heart tried to run the show. Wisdom came with experience. Wasn’t that the point of life lessons? Especially when repeated with such fierce rigidity.

  At the beginning of freshman year of high school, she was dropped on Laura’s doorstep.

  She nursed her glass of moscato, sighing at the memory. Her barriers had crumbled sometime during sophomore year. The four-year stay was likely to blame. Not that it was Laura’s fault their relationship had ended. Laura hadn’t wanted to die. Still, it reaffirmed what Grace had already known. Some people were meant to walk through life alone. She was one of them.

  Which led her back to Matt. The thought of no longer having him in her life brought a deep-seated ache. Right in the region of her heart, damn it all. When would she learn? After all these years, the walls around her too-fragile, too-soft, too-emotional center should be miles high. Unbreachable. Matt had bulldozed right on through. His stupid, crooked smile and blasted dimple were to blame.

  Oh, who was she kidding? The entire Matt Duncan package rendered her helpless as a newborn kitten. She glared at the dumb trees. Sweet dandelion blood-ridden baby cherubs from heaven. Grace tossed back the rest of her wine and stomped into her condo. Of all the stupid, idiotic, moronic times to stop swearing, this had to be at the top.

  The phone rang. She wanted to toss it off the balcony.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, dear.” Mrs. Freeman’s voice crackled paper-thin across the phone line. “I saw your gentleman friend leave.”

  “Oh, yeah. That was Matt.”

  “Your boss? Never mind, dear. I don’t mean to be nosy. I’m calling about Apollo. He’s been pacing the apartment, and I wondered if you might be able to spare some time to take him out for a walk.”

  “I’d love to. I’ll be down in five.”

  Setting the phone back on its base, she dashed into her bedroom to throw on her jogging clothes. An outing with Apollo was exactly what the doctor called for. A final tug on her runners and she was out the door, bounding down the stairs with an enthusiasm the Great Dane would be hard pressed to rival.

  Which was her first mistake, she realized ten minutes later, running for all she was worth. Clearly the big, lovable hound had been cooped up for far too long. At this rate, they’d find her at dawn, dead of a heart attack, stroke, and suffocated from her inability to gasp air fast enough. Another gian
t lope from too-long doggy legs yanked her arm into screaming agony. Add a dislocated shoulder to the list.

  “Son of a…Great Dane mother. Apollo. Give me a break, buddy.”

  The dog looked back as if to say, “What’s the problem? You’re young.” His droopy lips flipped up in a grin as he ran.

  She narrowed her eyes. Oh, that was it. One bossy male in her life was more than enough. Angling toward the grass, because even in her irritation she cared about the big slavering mutt’s joints, she threw on the brakes and hauled on his leash. For a split second of eye-widening terror, she thought Apollo was just going to keep running with her arm still attached to the leash, while she remained behind. Then he arced around in a circle and panted to a stop.

  In a brief moment of exhausted delusion, she swore he was laughing. She shook off the image and collapsed onto the grass. Apollo dropped down beside her and rested his drool-foamed jaw on her belly.

  “Oh, gross.”

  For a woman who’d spent all night, and a good portion of the morning, becoming reacquainted with certain parts of her anatomy, a mad dash down the Greenbelt was more than she’d bargained for. Much, much more. Her breathing returned to normal, her heart rate calmed, and finally the rest of her body caught onto the lack of movement.

  Vaguely aware of curious looks tossed her way by passing joggers, bikers, and other exercise enthusiasts, she preserved her dignity by staring up at the wide expanse of blue sky.

  Until a shadow blocked her view. A gravel-laden voice accompanied the shadow. “You okay, lady?”

  Squinting up, and then up some more, she made out a huge man in a jogging suit. Light gleamed off his bald head. Apollo raised his head at the man’s approach but hadn’t stood or assumed a protective stance.

  Muscles screamed as she pushed to her feet. “Yeah, yeah,” she muttered.

  “Sorry?” The Hulk frowned.

  Gaining her feet, she forced a smile sharp enough to cut glass. “I’m fine, thanks. This beast was just trying to kill me. No biggie.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Black eyes cut to Apollo.

  Grace rested a protective hand on the dog’s back. He’d risen and must have picked up on her tension, because he bristled beneath her hand.

  “By running like he was competing for the Triple Crown.”

  “Oh.”

  Those steely eyes came back to her. She fought the urge to take a step back. Purely on description, she doubted this guy was her stalker. Still, the world was full of wackos.

  “Well, as long as you’re fine.”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  With a nod, he started walking. In the opposite direction of her condo. Suddenly exhausted, any interest in further exercise evaporated.

  “Come on, boy. Hope you had fun, because that’s all you’re gonna get this time around.”

  She was shocked to see how far they’d come. Amazing the distance covered with a long-legged dog plowing ahead. Mrs. Freeman seemed surprised to see her so soon but accepted Apollo’s return with her usual calm poise. Grace staggered upstairs, focused on collapsing on her bed.

  At the top of the stairs, the hair on the nape of her neck lifted. Her front door stood ajar. No way had she left it open. Maybe Matt had returned. But why would he leave the door open?

  He wouldn’t.

  One foot found a lower step, then another and another. Eye level with the hall floor, a shadow passed the opening. She turned and ran.

  Not sure where she was headed, since her purse and car keys were upstairs in her condo, she tore around a corner and hurtled straight into a rock-hard masculine chest. A scream stuck in her throat.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Sheriff Sanford drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. What the hell was taking so long? Speak of the Devil…

  Gunner barreled out of the pawn shop and dove into the Cherokee like he’d just ripped off the joint.

  “Go, go, go!”

  Sanford threw the Cherokee into drive and peeled out of the parking lot. Hanging out with Gunner had gotten him into heaps of trouble during his teen years. Some things never changed. Glancing in the rear-view mirror, he winced at the black skid marks he’d left. A man ran out of the store, a nasty-looking shotgun in hand. Sanford glared at Gunner.

  Patience hanging by a thread, he faced the street. “What did you do?”

  His passenger tried an innocent expression. Shiny bald head, thick neck, black eyes, and rough-looking face—innocent wasn’t a good look for him. “All I did was ask a nice young man a few very polite questions about anybody trying to pawn a police-issue handgun recently.”

  “That was not a young man tearing out of the building and shouldering a twelve-gauge.”

  “Probably the young man’s father.”

  Sanford’s fingers tightened around the wheel. This was as bad as dragging answers out of Billy when he’d hauled him in for holding up the 7-11. “Why would the young man’s father have a desire to fill your hairy backside with holes?”

  The dad would have to get in line.

  “Could have something to do with me hauling the scrawny kid’s pimply face across the counter and threatening to pound it against the glass until he lost the snotty attitude.” Gunner snapped the seat belt into place and sat back with the air of a man highly satisfied with a job well done.

  Sanford spent a solid thirty seconds visualizing smashing Gunner’s head into the dashboard. No sane man would voluntarily go up against the beast seated next to him, which meant his sanity had taken a hike. Not exactly news. “I don’t suppose you managed to get anything useful out of the…interview?”

  “Ya know, once I smacked his head into the counter, the information poured out. Along with some blood, but you probably don’t want to hear about that. Or the broken nose.”

  Gunner popped a few knuckles while Sanford mentally itemized the reasons he couldn’t pull over and kick Gunner’s ass. Number one: He wasn’t positive he could take him. Number two: Gunner had been unruly since birth, and would no doubt die that way. How he’d lived to be so old was a mystery.

  “Anyway, someone matching our guy’s description was in yesterday, right at closing time. The kid’s dad sent him packing.”

  “Too bad. I’d like to have my gun back.”

  An evil grin accompanied more knuckle-cracking. “We’ll get it back.”

  Sanford winced. “How are things with Grace? You haven’t seen Deke?”

  “Nah. I did talk to her once. Some horse of a dog was giving her trouble. I made like I was just another jogger on the path.”

  “Hell, Gunner. I said not to make contact.”

  “What, you want me to keep Deke from mauling her but a dog can have at it?”

  Sanford gritted his teeth, then counted to fifty. “No. I don’t want anyone mauling her.”

  “There is another guy. Pretty sure he’s doing more than mauling.” Gunner smirked.

  He glanced sharply at him. “What do you mean?”

  “Unless I miss my guess, which I never do, they’re doing the horizontal polka. I did some checking and he’s her boss. Dirty pool, man.” He shook his head. “Dirty pool.”

  “He’s not some old geezer, is he?”

  “Like us?” His big, booming laugh reminded Sanford of the time the two of them snuck around the back of Principal Gordon’s house and saw him banging the secretary. Thankfully, Gunner had waited to laugh until they were out in the barn guzzling the whiskey he’d swiped from his dad. Even then, he’d had a laugh to wake the dead.

  “Nah.” Gunner shook his head. “The guy’s in his mid-thirties, but everyone knows the boss-man has no business screwing an employee. If she were my daughter, I’d take the SOB for a walk and teach him a thing or two about respecting women.”

  “You think he’s just using her?” Sanford’s gut tightened. Bad enough they had to deal with Deke squirming out of the woodwork. “He have a rep for sleeping with his female employees or something?”

  Gunner rubbed his bald head. “Far
as I can see, the guy’s love life has been pretty nonexistent until Grace. Had an ex-fiancée a few years back who apparently slept with his entire family.” He shrugged. “Maybe this thing with Miss Debry is on the up-and-up. Can’t say as I’d blame the guy. If I were a few years younger…”

  Sanford snorted. “Yeah, knock off twenty years, get an attitude transplant and major plastic surgery. You might stand a chance.”

  “I resent that.” Gunner fluttered stubby lashes and placed a hand on his chest. “I could’ve been married five times over if I’d wanted an old ball and chain to drag around.”

  Sanford’s halfway good mood evaporated. Focusing on the road, he steered the Jeep toward downtown Boise. Since that’s where Grace lived and worked, Deke couldn’t be far. According to Detective Harrison, Deke had sullied every aspect of Grace’s life. Pity they had no proof. They couldn’t arrest him on Sandford’s intuition.

  “You doing okay, John?”

  Sanford shot him a glance. Gunner never called him by his first name. “What do you mean?”

  “Your wife dying and all. Gotta be rough, after being married so long.”

  Tension shot up his back and a headache exploded in his temples. All the effort he’d put into redirecting his attention was destroyed. “I’m trying not to think about it. Why don’t you go back to watching her home? I’ll head on over to where she works and keep an eye on things there. Deke’s bound to show up sooner or later.”

  “Question.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Why haven’t you gone to Grace and told her the whole story?”

  All of his nerve endings tightened, until his face felt made of glass. A light tap in just the right place and he’d shatter. Sanford swallowed. “Fact is, I’m ashamed. I don’t want to face that girl and tell her the role I played. I don’t see the point. My going to her won’t make any difference. Won’t catch Deke or help keep her safe.”

  “You’re too hard on yourself, man. After all these years and everything you’ve done to keep her safe, you need to cut yourself some slack. Ease up.”