Rules of Protection (Tangled in Texas) (Volume 1)

by Alison Bliss

“I’ll take your word for it.”

  Jake crossed over some railroad tracks and veered left. There were more fields than houses, no streetlights, and the road got narrower by the minute. About five miles down, a fork in the road came into view, but Jake stayed left. At another stop sign, he swung another left, then continued down the road.

  “See? Four lefts and we haven’t crossed ourselves yet.”

  “Doesn’t mean we won’t,” I said doubtfully.

  We slowed down as we crossed an old one-lane, barrel-style bridge, then picked up speed until we neared the next curve. As we rounded the sharp left curve, Jake slammed on his brakes as two white-tailed deer darted across the road before us. I clutched my chest and drew in a deep breath.

  “Scared?”

  “I thought they weren’t going to get across before you creamed one. Why don’t you drive slower, Mario Andretti? This isn’t a race, and I’m in no hurry to die.”

  “Everyone drives like this back here,” he replied. “You’ll get used to it.”

  “Please slow down. The trees are right at the edge of the road. I have enough people trying to kill me without the car reaching out to hug one.”

  Begrudgingly, he did as I asked. A few more miles up the road, he curved to the right sharply, then took another left.

  “You went right back there,” I said with a smug grin. “Guess it’s not all lefts.”

  “Doesn’t count.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s a curve. No other way to go.”

  “Yeah, but…”

  “Doesn’t count,” Jake repeated.

  “You always make up rules as you go along. Like you saying no family reunions, then heading to your uncle’s house.”

  “Those were your rules, not mine.”

  After the next left turn, I spied an old pickup truck sitting on the side of the road with its headlights shining on two men as they strolled out of the woods carrying a rope and a shovel. It was the first sign of life I’d seen in the last twenty minutes. The men reached the front of the truck and stood in the headlights as we passed. I craned my neck to get a better look.

  One of them had no eye in his right socket, while the other stared straight at me and gave me a toothless snarl. They were filthy, as if they’d been rolling in dirt. It reminded me of something out of Deliverance.

  “Jesus,” I told Jake, swallowing a knot in my throat. “What the hell were they doing out there at night?”

  “No telling. Probably hunting.”

  “With a rope and a shovel? I don’t think so.”

  Jake grinned but didn’t take his eyes off the road. “After this turn, I have to slow down.

  “No! Keep going.”

  He chuckled. “Oh, now you want me to drive faster.”

  “Well, I sure as hell don’t want you to slow down. Those creepy guys might be coming this way.”

  “Emily, I have to. Bonnie walks this road after sundown, and she’s blacker than night. I wouldn’t want to hit her. I don’t know how many times we’ve all threatened to slap glow-in-the-dark stickers on her ass, but she won’t stay off the roads.”

  “Jake, that’s a terrible thing to say about someone.”

  He smirked at me. “Bonnie is Mr. Hensley’s cow.” Jake maneuvered the left turn, which landed us on a bumpy dirt road. “Look, I bet that’s her up ahead. You can barely see her.”

  Sure enough, a shadowy blob moved in the darkness. As we neared, the black cow stopped eating from the overgrown weeds at the side of the road, turned its head to look back at us, and switched its tail from side to side like a cat. I grinned as Jake maneuvered the Explorer around the living roadblock.

  “Where does Mr. Hensley live?”

  “House on the right with all the floodlights. He locks Bonnie up in a barn on the backside of his property, but he’s never been able to keep her there.”

  Mr. Hensley’s house was old, rickety, and neglected. Plagued with vines and rotting trim, it looked condemned—abandoned, at best. Large, orange-colored half-moons stained the sides of the house, and something resembling grass grew on the roof. I peered through the dark trying to see the barn, but the building I saw was too small for something as large as Bonnie.

  “You’re kidding me, right? Tell me that wasn’t an outhouse.”

  “Okay, it wasn’t an outhouse.”

  I recognized his monotone for what it was. “Oh, Jesus! Where the hell have you taken me?”

  “Calm down. Mr. Hensley’s an elderly man who prefers to live by simple means. Where we’re staying is more like the Hilton than Mr. Hensley’s.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Sorry, I thought…well, I’m not sure what I thought.”

  “Almost there. Another mile up the road,” Jake told me.

  I glanced over at his moonlit face and slanted an eyebrow. “Let me guess, it’s on the left?”

  He answered me with his silence and a wide grin.

  When we turned into a long driveway, I snapped back to reality and had my first inclination that something wasn’t right. A large wooden sign with faded black letters, which said Miller’s Bird Farm, leaned against the barbed wire fence at the end of the driveway.

  Jake drove slowly up the drive, passing a workshop on the right, a vegetable garden on the left. He pulled up onto a large concrete pad next to an old blue pickup.

  Two houses faced the concrete pad. A large white one before us—the main house, I assumed—sat high enough off the ground that you could drive a truck underneath it. The siding was unfinished, and the porch rails were likely to collapse any moment from the bowed and battered wood. Unlit Christmas lights hung from the eaves, though it was late March.

  The much smaller guest house—something similar to a cottage—sat two steps off the ground, but wasn’t in any better condition. Someone had scraped the old paint, but never got around to repainting the siding. Or maybe they preferred the weathered look. I wasn’t sure, but regardless…this was the Hilton?

  In that moment, all I knew was that Jake had brought me here under false pretenses, and I was pissed. Okay, it wasn’t really false pretenses. After all, Jake did say it was a perfect place to hide me out. Nobody in their right mind would look for me here. Of course, that’s only because I’d have to be out of mine to stay here.

  He turned off the car and looked over at me. I gave him a menacing glare, hoping it filled him with as much dread as I’d felt when I realized where we’d be staying.

  “Okay, Emily, I understand you’re upset, but I think—”

  “Upset? That doesn’t begin to cover it, you…you…kidnapping asshole! You made it sound like we were going to be staying somewhere decent. Hell, I’d have settled for something livable. If you think I’m staying in that cardboard box, you can go get fucked.”

  A muscle twitched in the side of his jaw. Tension built in his shoulders as he gripped the steering wheel with tightly clasped hands. He tried to control his temper, but failed miserably.

  “Kidnapping? I can’t believe you’re going to start that crap again. You’re a royal pain in my ass. I’ve never met a woman this frustrating in my entire life. You’re a rude, unappreciative spoiled brat!”

  “Why? Because I don’t want to spend my nights in low-income housing?” I asked with a sarcastic tone. “What’s next? Are we going to share a sleeping bag in a tent out in the woods?”

  “Either you can stay here or take your chances with Frankie Felts,” Jake said matter-of-factly. “I’m offering you an alternative to death, but it’s up to you. If you want to leave, I’m not stopping you.”

  A porch light flipped on upstairs and grabbed our attention. An older couple stepped out the front door and headed down the stairs.

  “When you’re done with your tantrum, you can decide what you want to do,” Jake added. “All I ask is that you don’t be rude to my aunt and uncle. They’re good people.”

  I served him a sweet smile. “I’m sure I’ll like them fine. It’s you I don’t like.”
>
  “Good. I don’t like you, either,” Jake said angrily, opening his door to get out.

  He knew I wouldn’t leave. Where else did I have to go? Nope, I was stuck with him, even after he called me all those names. The thing that bothered me most was that he meant them. Maybe I had reacted poorly to him misleading me, but he didn’t have to be so harsh. I let the hurt feelings percolate through my system, then pushed them away. Mental note: send the FBI hate mail for saddling me with Jake.

  I ran my fingers through my flat, lifeless brown hair hoping to tease it into better condition, but it was no use. After traveling cross-country, it wasn’t going to look any better until I washed it. In fact, I wasn’t going to feel better at all until I took a long, hot shower. Of course, that’s assuming these people actually had hot water. My legs cramped, my back hurt, and my stiff muscles needed to stretch. Exhausted, I opened my door and stepped out slowly wearing cement shoes.

  Jake shook his uncle’s hand firmly, gave him a pat on the back, and then gave his aunt a big hug, lifting her completely off the ground. They were happy to see each other, which sent a small twinge of jealousy through me. I hated to break up their reunion, but introductions were necessary.

  “This is Emily Foster,” Jake said. “Emily, my Uncle Hank and Aunt Floss.”

  His uncle stepped forward to shake my hand with a slight hobble in his gait. Hank was probably somewhere in his late sixties with a head full of wavy silver hair and a neatly trimmed beard to match. He was tall, but round in the middle under his denim overalls. My first thought was he’d make a handsome Santa Claus. My second thought was he’d make an even better Kenny Rogers.

  “You got a lot of baggage?” Hank asked with a drawl.

  I shrugged and smiled lightly. “Does emotional count?”

  He chuckled under his breath. “Well, I’d say it does, but that’s not something I can carry for you, young lady. I’m sure it’s heavy, but you make sure you unpack that bag first,” Hank said, giving me a wink. I couldn’t help but love the man immediately.

  Jake’s aunt wore a cotton dress like a potato sack over her petite, slender body, with gray hair wound firmly into a bun on the back of her head. She grabbed me and gave me a kiss on each cheek. “Nice to meet you, dear. Are you hungry? I could whip up something. You look like you could stand to gain a few pounds.” Bless this woman!

  “Thanks, but no, we stopped and ate.”

  “Well, if you decide you want something, I stocked the guest house with a few snacks. Be sure to help yourself,” she said.

  I nodded and smiled a thank you to her. Great. Now I feel like such a douche after the way I acted toward Jake in the car. They both were kind, and I couldn’t imagine it being that bad staying here, if only for a short while.

  “I’m sure they’re both worn out,” Hank told his wife. “A shower would probably do wonders. I bet it’s been a long day.”

  “You have no idea,” Jake said, tossing me an ugly look. Guess he was still mad. “We’ll get our showers and visit with you and Floss for a bit before turning in.”

  Hank nodded. “Let me help with the bags.”

  “It’s just one bag. We left in a hurry,” Jake explained. “Instead, why don’t you get a fire going? You got beer, right?”

  “Does a bear shit in the woods?” Hank grinned at Jake as he and Floss walked toward the house.

  Jake grabbed our suitcase from the back and motioned for me to follow him to the guesthouse twenty feet away. The thought of getting an actual shower put some pep into my step. As we got closer, something white lying on the small, darkened porch caught my attention.

  “What’s that?”

  “Dog. Don’t worry, he won’t bother you.” Jake stepped over him, but the animal never moved, never even lifted his head.

  I stared at the dog closer. He had white fur, a few dark spots peppered over his floppy ears, and closed eyes. He didn’t seem to be breathing. “Is he dead?”

  Jake shook his head. “Nah. He’s a lazy, old hound. You’ll have to step over, or you’re going to be there all night.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Dog.”

  “I know what he is…I asked you what his name—”

  “That’s his name. Dog.”

  I gave Jake a strange look, then stepped over Dog. “Your aunt and uncle aren’t very original.”

  Jake ignored me, opened the door, and flipped on a light switch. He held the door while I ducked under his arm and into the small cottage. “Home sweet home,” he said. “I take it you decided to stay?”

  I couldn’t speak or move. I had expected less-than-perfect conditions, but the cottage was primitive at best. It obviously hadn’t been used in some time and needed a facelift. The linoleum had cracks, the flowery wallpaper had peeled, and a yellow love seat with large brown flowers sat in the small living room. The room was clean—depending on your definition of clean—but I did spy a cobweb hanging in the corner of the living room. It was enough to give me the heebie-jeebies.

  Jake steered me toward the bedroom where a double bed, covered by a quilt and decorated with green floral throw pillows, filled up most of the room. It would be like sleeping in a closet.

  “So what are the sleeping arrangements?” I asked.

  “You’re looking at it,” Jake said casually. “This is where we’ll sleep.”

  “We? You’re not French, and I doubt you have a mouse in your pocket.”

  “Nope, none in my pocket. But I’m sure you can find one hiding under the bed or in the closet if you look hard enough.”

  Jeez. Like the spider wasn’t bad enough? I had to worry about mice, too. “Yah, we’re sharing a toddler bed,” I said sarcastically.

  “Hank and Floss know we aren’t a couple, but other people would wonder why I’m sleeping apart from my girlfriend. We’re not teenagers. If I’m not nearby, I can’t keep an eye out. We need to stay low-key, and I need to closely monitor the situation…or namely, you.”

  “What other people? We’re out in the middle of nowhere.”

  “The neighbors stop by from time to time. I don’t want anyone questioning our relationship. No one would believe I brought a woman home with me for a visit unless we’re sleeping together.”

  I let out a sharp breath. “Fine, but we need to establish some bedtime rules. Otherwise, it could create more tension.”

  “Yeah, there’s not enough of that between us,” Jake said.

  Okay, I didn’t mind sharing a bed with Jake. In fact, my skin heated and my heart raced at the thought. But after he called me a spoiled brat, I wouldn’t dare let him know I liked the idea of sleeping in the same bed as him.

  “If you want, you can go first,” he offered, pointing to the bathroom door. “Don’t lock the door.”

  I grabbed some clothes and dashed into the bathroom. The water smelled funny, like rust or iron, but I stood under the blast of hot liquid, letting it pour over me as my sore, achy muscles loosened. I dried off with a ratty towel, dressed, and then tried to brush my teeth. I used the word tried loosely. I couldn’t do it.

  “Jake, I’m having a small crisis. I can’t brush my teeth using this smelly water. It’s…gross.”

  “You’ll get used to it,” he replied, brushing me off.

  “I’m serious. Help me, or I’m not brushing my teeth the rest of the time we’re here. And don’t try to tell me it’s not your problem, because if I accidentally turn over in the middle of the night and breathe on you, it will become your problem.”

  He rolled his eyes and walked out. A moment later, he returned with a bottle of drinking water. “Here, use this to brush your teeth with.”

  “Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Jake pulled off his T-shirt and unbuttoned his jeans.

  “If you’ll give me a minute, I’m nearly done.”

  “You’ve seen it before,” he said, dropping his jeans.

  I tried not to look—tried being the key word—while he dropped
his underwear and stepped into the tub. Not much privacy in a one-bedroom cottage, but him showing his body to me freely, without sharing, was going to be a problem. It made me wonder how firm he stood on his no sex policy…among other things.

  My body drooped tiredly into the mattress. No television to occupy my time. I sat there waiting for him. Okay, so I hoped to get another peek. Sue me.

  When Jake came out a few minutes later, he was shirtless and his jeans rested low on his hips. Water droplets spotted his back, and his muscles gleamed from the slick dampness of smooth skin. After putting on his shirt and shoes, we headed out the door.

  “He’s got to be dead,” I told Jake, looking back at the lifeless white figure still lying on the porch. “I forgot he was there and accidentally stepped on his tail, but he still didn’t move.”

  “Must not have hurt,” Jake said.

  I followed Jake across the driveway and up a trail of stepping stones in the dark, not knowing where we were going until I spotted Hank sitting in a plastic lawn chair next to a glowing fire. A two-foot tall stone border trimmed the outside of the burn pit, keeping the fire and ashes contained. Jake pulled up two more chairs for us as his uncle kicked a red ice chest over to us.

  Jake cut his eyes over to me. “Emily, you want a beer?”

  “Does a bear shit in the woods?” I said, watching Hank smirk. Jake twisted the top off my bottle and handed it to me. “Where’s your wife, Mr. Miller?”

  “Floss is upstairs grabbing some insect repellent. And, young lady, unless you want me to turn you over my knee, you’ll call me Hank. You hear?”

  I studied Hank’s face, watching for signs of humor, but there weren’t any, just a straight-lined mouth and serious eyes glaring back at me. Once I decided it wasn’t an empty threat, I nodded solemnly, which made Jake take a turn smirking. What was up with the men in his family wanting to spank me?

  “What’s burning?” I asked. “It doesn’t look like wood.”

  “It’s not,” Hank said. “It’s a bag of garbage from inside the house. We don’t get trash pick-up way out here. We separate our trash into three containers: burnable, unburnable, and glass. We recycle the glass, but once a month we haul the unburnable to a landfill.”