by Morgan Blaze
“It’s a tablecloth, you moron.”
“Well, they work for sheets too.”
“You’d better not have my tablecloth on your bed!”
Kyla put a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. This was going to be really fun.
* * * *
Dinner was a blast.
For the most part Kyla just sat there, eating the best lasagna she’d ever had and listening to the mile-a-minute banter. They seemed to have it down to a science. Sometimes there were two or three conversations going at once, and eventually one person would take over with some story that everyone else listened to, and then added to, until the discussion splintered again. A few times things got a little heated, but a word from Jonah or a look from Luka changed the mood.
It was everything she’d dreamed a family would be like, and more.
There was nothing wrong with Mark, but she could see why he and Gage didn’t get along sometimes. They were polar opposites. Mark took almost everything seriously, but he had a quick, dry sense of humor. Gage was willing to laugh at anything, but if something was important to him, he’d defend it with single-minded passion. Including and especially his family.
By the end of dessert, she loved them all.
She insisted on helping with the cleanup. Soon after everything was done, Luka said goodbye and headed out to spend the rest of the night with Reese. Jonah left a few minutes later. He didn’t say where he was going, and no one asked. She wondered briefly about that, but decided it wasn’t really her business.
Her, Mark and Gage were sitting at the kitchen table with coffees when she suddenly realized it was almost eleven, and they all had to work in the morning.
“Oh, wow,” she said. “It’s so late! I really should get home.”
Gage glanced at the clock on the wall and frowned. “Huh. I guess it is,” he said. “You don’t have to leave, though.”
“Thank you. But I need to get some sleep. I have to work in the morning.”
“So do you, Gage,” Mark said.
“Quit being sensible for once, will you?” He glowered at Mark for a second, and then turned to Kyla. “Are you sure?” he said. “I mean…”
She knew he was thinking about her possible ex-husband sighting. But she couldn’t let just the idea of him scare her, or she’d end up living her whole life in fear. “I’m sure,” she said. “Everything’s fine.”
“All right. I’ll walk you out, then.”
They all stood at the same time. “Thank you for having me over,” she said to Mark. “I had a great time, and I’m happy I got to meet you all.”
He looked surprised for an instant, and then he smiled. “Same here,” he said. “And you’re welcome to come over any time.”
“I’d like that.”
They exchanged goodbyes, and Gage walked with her out the front door. “I’m impressed,” he said when they got outside. “You already have Mark’s seal of approval.”
“He’s not so bad, really,” she said. “Just very serious.”
“That’s an understatement.”
As they headed slowly to the curb where Kyla had parked, Gage looked up briefly at the sky. “Not a star in sight,” he said. “It’s going to storm tonight.”
“Really?” Even as she said it, she felt the first few sprinkles of warm rain on her arms. “Oh. I guess maybe it is.”
“We’re due for it.” They reached the truck, and Gage gave her a serious look. “I’m worried about you,” he said. “What if you really did see this guy, and he’s looking for you?”
She sighed. “Honestly, I’m a little concerned, too.”
“Stay, then,” he said. “Or let me go with you.”
“No. I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m through letting him dictate my life.” She spoke a little more forcefully than she’d meant, and made herself dial it down. “I can’t spend forever looking over my shoulder, wondering if maybe he’s there. That’s not living. It’s hiding, and I’ve been doing that for the past year.” She let out a breath. “I’m done hiding from him.”
“It’s not hiding if you have an actual reason to worry,” he said. “It’s being smart. And safe.”
“Gage, please,” she said. “Try to understand. If I don’t do this, I’m never going to be free. That’s all I want—my freedom.”
“So you’d rather be alone,” he said. “I thought I was the stubborn one.”
She knew her sudden anger was unreasonable, and not about Gage. But she couldn’t help directing some of it at him anyway. “Maybe I am stubborn,” she said. “But I think I’ve earned the right to be. I am going home, by myself, and that’s that.”
As she turned away and headed for the driver’s side, Gage said, “Kyla, wait.”
“It’s late,” she said, not stopping. “I’m leaving.”
“Please…at least call me when you get home. So I know you’re safe.”
She froze with a hand on the door handle. “Fine,” she said without looking at him. “But only to tell you I’m home. Then I’m going to bed.”
“That’s fine. As long as I know you’re okay.”
The pain in his voice almost broke her resolve. But if she gave in now, she’d never go through with this. She had to stop the cycle. So she got in the truck without another word, and drove away.
She managed not to cry until Gage was out of sight.
Chapter 15
The cottage looked exactly the same as it always did when she got home—dark, quiet, and empty. But she still felt an overwhelming sense of foreboding as she parked in the driveway and willed herself to go inside.
It was completely ridiculous to think that Mike might be here. Even if he’d tracked her to Covendale, and she really had seen him in front of the Stop ‘n Shop, he wouldn’t be able to find out where she lived. Hardly anyone in town knew. And if he went to the sheriff’s office looking for her, he would’ve been arrested.
All sane and logical thoughts. And none of them made her feel any better.
She felt awful about fighting with Gage, too. Maybe she should’ve just stayed at the Dawsons, or asked him to come over—just to check things out. She almost called him right then. But she decided to go inside first, so she wouldn’t sound terrified when she talked to him. And she could apologize for being a jerk.
“Just go in,” she said out loud. It was enough to get her moving.
The door was locked, just as she’d left it, giving her some margin of relief. She opened it and went inside, turned on the living room light. Nothing out of place. Breathing easier now, she deposited her purse on the table by the door and headed for the kitchen. She’d grab a drink of water, and then call Gage.
When she first flipped the kitchen light on, her mind refused to process the broken glass beneath the picture window. She didn’t associate it with the screaming mental warning—until she heard a voice behind her.
“Did you really think you could hide from me, Kyla?”
She bolted instantly, headed for the knife drawer. She actually managed to get a hand on the knob before a rock-hard arm wrapped around her throat and squeezed, lifting her off her feet. Black starbursts rapidly clouded her vision.
“Don’t be tiresome.” Mike patted her down with his free hand, found the cell phone in her pocket and yanked it out roughly. “You won’t need this,” he said. Distantly she heard a thud, followed by a cracking sound, and she guessed he’d thrown the phone against a wall.
She tried to kick, to loosen his arm, anything. But even with both hands, she couldn’t budge him. Her strength, and her consciousness, was fading fast.
“You’re in trouble, babe.” Mike’s voice feathered her ear, making her desperately nauseous. “You’ve caused me a lot of grief this past year, and now you’re going to pay for it.”
As she slid into blackness, she thought of Gage—and what she would give to be able to tell him he’d been right.
* * * *
Gage
managed to wait a whole half an hour before he called Kyla’s phone. It rang, and rang, and rang. Each unanswered ring added to the growing weight in his gut, until he was physically sick with it.
She should’ve been home by now. She should have called.
An automated message cut in: The person you’re calling is not available. Please try—
He cut the call with a frustrated growl, and dialed again. Still no answer.
The third time he got the automated message, he shoved the phone in his pocket and ran upstairs. Mark had gone to bed a few minutes after Kyla left. He knocked at the closed bedroom door, and then opened it without bothering to wait for an answer. “Mark, wake up,” he said. “I need to borrow your car.”
“What the—” Mark said thickly. “Gage, it’s almost midnight. Where do you need to go?”
He turned the light on. Mark snarled and threw a hand up. “Jesus! The fuck are you doing, man?”
“Where are your keys?”
“Gage. What the hell’s going on?”
“It’s Kyla. She said she’d call when she got home, and now she’s not answering her phone.”
“Seriously?” Mark leveled a stern glare at him. “Did you two have a fight when she left? You looked kind of put out when you came back in.”
“Yes, but that’s beside the point,” he said. “She could be in trouble. Come on, let me have your keys.”
“Trouble? This is really stupid, even for you. Don’t you know anything about women?” Mark said. “You just need to give her a little time to cool off. Calm down, and get some sleep.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Yes, I do. You’ve never had a real fight with a woman. Trust me, you’re better off just letting it go. You can apologize in the morning.”
“That’s not it!” Gage’s jaw clenched hard. “Can I borrow your car, or not?”
“No.”
“Fine. I’ll take my truck.”
As he left the room, Mark called out, “Gage, wait—” He slammed the door on whatever his brother was going to say, and took the stairs two at a time. Outside, the rain had started in earnest. As he headed for the garage through the downpour, he called Kyla again, desperately hoping.
No answer. Automated message.
Thunder boomed overhead as he hit the garage door button. He ducked beneath the door before it finished opening and vaulted into the truck. When he turned the key, The Beast roared to life.
Driving this thing at night was always a risk around here. It was loud in every way, and it made him a target for Deputy Dipshit—the noise ordinance in Covendale kicked in at ten p.m. But he didn’t care. She would have called him, even if she was mad.
Something had gone wrong.
He backed out of the garage and swung onto the street, wipers at full speed to beat back the sheets of rain. Lightning painted the sky in brilliant flashes, and thunder cracked louder than his engine. He pushed The Beast faster, barely slowing to take corners. He blew through the stop sign just before the railroad tracks.
He was maybe six blocks from Kyla’s house when flashing blue and red lights pulsed brightly in his rearview mirror.
“Fuck!” For a minute he considered not stopping. If he made it to Kyla’s before he pulled over, he could at least see if her truck was there. But if the worst had happened, he’d probably have to get the sheriff involved. He could do that right now—as long as the deputy behind him wasn’t Dean.
He pulled over.
It seemed like forever until he heard the telltale slam of a car door. He rolled the window down, just in time to hear, “Out of the vehicle, Dawson.”
Of course it was Dean.
Jaw clenched, he popped the door and slid out, into the pouring rain. Dean stood a few feet back, directing the too-bright beam of a flashlight at the ground. “Look, I’m sorry,” he said. “I know I was going a little too fast, but—”
“Shut up,” Dean said. “Speeding, reckless driving, running a stop sign. Hell, you’re probably drunk too. I’m taking you down to the station.”
“Jesus Christ.” He could not afford a pissing contest with Deputy Dean right now. “I said I’m sorry,” he said, moving slowly toward the deputy. “If you want to write me a ticket or five, just go ahead. But I have to get to Kyla. She’s in trouble.”
“Oh, your girlfriend with the pepper spray?” Dean sneered, making his features ghoulish in the uneven light. “Don’t try to feed me a line of bullshit, Dawson. You’re just cruising for a quick lay, and you’re pissed that I caught you. You’re coming to the station.”
The effort to hold back had him shaking. “Goddamn it, Dean. I don’t want to fight with you. I’m serious—Kyla’s in trouble. You can follow me there if you don’t believe me.”
“And have you go off-road so I can’t chase you?” he said. “No fucking way. Get your ass in the squad car, right now.”
“I’m sorry, man. I really am. But I can’t do that.”
He turned away and headed for the open door. And something hard and heavy smashed between his shoulder blades.
The crack echoed in his head. He went down hard, striking his forehead on the pavement. As he gasped and breathed in water, Dean grabbed his arm and wrenched it behind his back. Cold metal bit into his wrist.
He was cuffed firmly before his head stopped spinning.
“I said, you’re going to the fucking station.” Dean hauled him to his feet and prodded him forward. He fell to his knees.
“Dean, please.” He tried to get up, and the deputy clubbed him again. This time he toppled onto his side. “I’m serious. Her life could be in danger. Do you understand? She could be killed—”
“Shut the fuck up.” Dean punctuated the statement with a kick to his gut that left him breathless. He grabbed his arm and half-marched, half-dragged him to the police car, then shoved him in the back seat.
Gage concentrated on catching his breath. When the deputy got into the driver’s seat, he rasped, “For God’s sake, Dean. Could you just go to her place and check on her, before you bring me in? We’re six blocks away.”
“Dawson, the day I do a favor for you is the day it snows in hell. Now shut your goddamned mouth.” He slammed the car into gear, screeched through a U-turn and sped away in the opposite direction.
Shuddering, Gage tried to pull himself into a less painful position. The only choice he had now was to hope the sheriff would listen to him. There was a better chance of that than snow in hell—but not by much.
* * * *
“I need to talk to the sheriff.”
Gage was in the first cell on the left, gripping the bars to keep from collapsing. He was drenched, covered in mud, and badly bruised, still slightly dizzy from the blow to his head. At least it’d stopped bleeding. Dean had stuck him in here and left the room. What seemed like hours later, but probably wasn’t, the deputy came strolling back in and plopped down at the desk.
He looked up when Gage spoke. “Too bad for you,” he said. “Sheriff’s not here.”
“Well, call him,” Gage said. “I need to talk to him.”
“He’s out of town.”
“Bullshit!” The effort of shouting sent a fresh surge of dizziness through him, and he almost fell. “Dean, I swear to God,” he said. “I’m telling the truth. Just send somebody over there, and I’ll shut up.”
“You’d better shut up anyway.”
The door to the holding area opened, and Nick Donovan walked in. Gage stuck a hand through the bars. “Nick,” he called. “Nick, can you get the sheriff for me?”
“What the…” Nick came further into the room, and stopped short when he caught sight of Gage. “Jesus,” he breathed. “Dean, what did you do to him?”
“Nothing he didn’t deserve.”
“Nick, listen to me. Please.” Gage winced and tried to stand straight. “I need to talk to Sheriff Tanner. My…friend is in serious trouble.”
“Don’t pay attention to the monkey,” Dean said.
“Can it, Wesley.”
Gage reeled a bit. He’d never heard Nick speak sharply to anyone—the man sounded dangerous. He’d never really noticed before, but Nick Donovan was almost as big as Jonah. And Dean actually backed down when he snapped.
Nick turned a frown on him, and said, “The sheriff’s out of town until tomorrow afternoon. What’s the problem?”
“I just need someone to go check on her,” he said. “Kyla Harding. Her last name used to be Finley. She lives on Rose Drive, in that cottage the Yarbroughs used to rent out to summer folks.”
Nick’s brow furrowed. “Why does she need checking on?”
“Because she’s in trouble,” he said. “She could be killed.”
“By what?”
“Would you just please go over there?”
Nick shook his head slowly. “We’d need probable cause,” he said. “We can’t just go to people’s residences without a reason.”
“I gave you a reason!”
“You think she’s in trouble.”
“Yes!” Damn it, he had to calm down and think. Nick was using a soothing tone on him, the kind people used when they thought you were nuts. He took a deep breath, and suddenly remembered something Kyla had said. “Her lawyer. He called in a report, or something. It has to be here somewhere.”
“I don’t know,” Nick said. “If there is one, it’d be in the sheriff’s office.”
“You’re actually buying this load of steaming crap?” Dean stood from the desk and glared at his partner. “Come on, Donovan. You can’t go in Tanner’s office.”
Nick sent him a cool stare. “I can, actually,” he said. “He left me the keys.”
Dean flushed and sat back down.
“All right, Mr. Dawson,” Nick said. “I’ll take a look. But if there’s nothing here, we just can’t do anything. I’m sorry.”
“Just look. It’ll be there.”
When Nick left the room, Gage closed his eyes and leaned gingerly against the bars. Something had to be there. She’d said her lawyer called.
And if Nick came back empty, he’d find a way to bust out of here. Somehow.
“Well, well. If it isn’t Mister Big Shot.”
The familiar female voice grated on Gage’s last nerve. He kept his eyes closed, refusing to rise to the bait.