She trusted him.
After two snowbound days together, she trusted that he was taking her someplace where she’d be safe. It shocked him, awed him, and if he were to admit the truth to himself, it scared him more than just a little bit. She was placing not only her life, but also the life of her little boy directly in his hands.
He clenched the steering wheel tightly. He hadn’t signed on for this, had simply offered a woman and her baby shelter from the storm. A tiny spark of anger filled him. He didn’t want this responsibility. Since the debacle with Mary he’d consciously backed away from being involved with anyone, even his family. He didn’t want anyone depending on him, needing him.
He didn’t want the responsibility, but now that he had it, he couldn’t turn his back. Janette had been trapped by the storm, and now he was trapped by her circumstances.
*
Janette thought she might be in a mild state of shock. She couldn’t process the fire, the gunshots and now a drive down narrow, slick roads with darkness all around.
She should be terrified, but she wasn’t. She was beyond terror and instead felt only a weary resignation, a stunning knowledge that she was no longer in control of her own life.
She glanced at Dalton. In the faint illumination from the dashboard his handsome features looked grim and more than a little bit dangerous. She could only imagine what was going through his mind right now.
Because of his kindness to a stranger, his home had been set on fire, he’d been shot at and he was now making a dash over the snow-slick roads to a safe place.
“I’m so sorry I got you involved in all this,” she said. “All I wanted to do was leave town.”
His knuckles turned white on the steering wheel as she felt the back end of the truck slide out. She caught her breath, then relaxed as he skillfully steered into the skid and straightened out the truck.
“I know,” he replied. “We’ll talk when we get where we’re going.”
That comment effectively stanched any other conversation she might have wanted to have. She cuddled Sammy closer against her and stared out the passenger window, where no lights from houses broke the darkness of the night.
He seemed to have a plan and she was grateful, because she had none. She couldn’t return to his apartment because it was obvious Sinclair knew she was there. She felt terrible that she’d now placed Dalton in a horrible position. If he didn’t turn her over to the sheriff, then he was breaking the law and could face even uglier repercussions of his own.
She’d like to be able to tell him just to drop her off somewhere, that she’d figure things out on her own. But that wasn’t an option either. She couldn’t go back to Sandstone and she couldn’t get out of Cotter Creek. She was in a horrible state of limbo, with Brandon Sinclair like a hound dog sniffing her scent.
She sat straighter in the seat as Dalton turned off the main road and through an iron gate. He doused his headlights as they approached a large ranch-style home.
“That’s my dad’s place,” he said as they drove past the sprawling one-story house. “It would be better if nobody knows you’re here on the property.”
That explained him dousing the truck lights. They entered a pasture area and he threw the gears into four-wheel drive as they hit the thicker snow where no plows had been.
They passed another house where lights shone from several windows. “That’s my brother Tanner and his wife’s place,” Dalton said.
Still they didn’t stop. Once they’d passed the second house Dalton turned the truck headlights back on. There were other tracks in the snow. In one area it looked as if several trucks or cars had made figure eights.
An area of thick woods was on their right, mostly evergreen trees, which she assumed provided windbreaks. Eventually Dalton turned through a small break in the trees and pulled to a halt in front of a small cabin. Trees completely surrounded it, tall evergreens that made it impossible to see the place unless you were right on top of it.
“Who lives here?” she asked, nerves jumping in her stomach.
“For now, you do,” he said as he shut off the engine. “At one time or another, I think all of my brothers have lived here for short periods, but for the last couple of months it’s been empty. You should be safe here.”
She should have been safe on the road between her home and the community college. She should have been safe in Dalton’s apartment. She couldn’t afford to take her safety for granted anymore.
“Come on, let’s get you inside and settled,” he said as he opened his truck door.
Janette got out of the truck and stared at the cabin. There was nothing welcoming about it. Illuminated only by the faint cast of the moon filtering through the trees, it looked dark and cold and forbidding.
She tightened her grip on Sammy as she followed Dalton up the stairs to the front door. He used a key to unlock it, then pushed it open, flipped on a switch that lit a small table lamp and ushered her inside.
The sense of welcome that had been absent from the exterior was present inside. Plump throw pillows covered a dark green sofa, and a rocking chair sat next to the fireplace. The wood floor gleamed with richness except where it was covered by braided rugs.
“It’s nothing fancy,” Dalton said as he wheeled the dial of the thermostat on the wall. “There’s a bedroom and bath and a small kitchen.” He turned to face her. “We’re deep enough in the woods that no one should see the lights, but I won’t light a fire. I don’t want smoke from the chimney to draw any curious people.”
He motioned her to follow him into the small kitchen, where he opened cabinets to show her a stockpile of canned goods. “There’s enough here to hold you for a night or two.”
“You’re not staying?” She tried to keep the fear out of her voice but didn’t quite succeed.
“I’ve got to get back to town and check on George and talk to my brother.”
“What are you going to tell him?” She studied his features, wondering if he’d decide to give her up, that this was all trouble he hadn’t bargained to take on and he was finished with her and her mess.
He swiped a hand through his thick dark hair and leaned against the wall, his expression unreadable. “I don’t know for sure. I’m still sorting out things in my head. But I promise you I won’t tell him you’re here.”
He shoved off from the wall. “Things are pretty dusty in here, but there’s fresh bedding in one of the dresser drawers in the bedroom, and it won’t take long for the furnace to warm things up.”
“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” she replied, although she wasn’t sure of anything. She wanted to tell him not to leave her, that she needed him to hold her, to wrap her in his strong arms and make her feel safe.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d truly felt safe. On second thought, yes, she did remember. It had been the night of her bad dream when he had held her and soothed away her fear.
He walked over to the doorway that led off the kitchen and flipped on the light to illuminate a small bedroom with a double bed and a long dresser. “It’s late. You should try to get some sleep. There’s a phone in the living room. I’m assuming you don’t have a cell phone.”
“Where I come from cell phones are a luxury, not a necessity.”
He nodded and headed for the front door. “You’ve got my cell phone number. If you need anything don’t hesitate to call.”
She followed him to the front door, nerves jangling inside as she watched him go out to the truck then return with her suitcase, which George had thrown into the back at the last minute.
“Will you be back later tonight?” she asked.
His green eyes narrowed intently. “I don’t know. I can’t make any promises. For sure I’ll try to be back here sometime tomorrow. Is there anything you need for Sammy?”
“It depends on how long we’re here. If it’s for too much longer I’m going to need some more diapers.” A sense of urgency swept through her. “Surely the bus will run tomorrow and I c
an get on it and away from here.”
He stared at her for a long moment, and she had a feeling he wanted to say something to her, something she might not want to hear. Instead he turned toward the door. “I’ll see you sometime tomorrow.”
And with that he was gone.
Sammy slept soundly as she laid him on the sofa with pillows surrounding him while she went into the bedroom to make up the bed.
The last thing on her mind was sleep. Restless energy filled her, coupled with a simmering sense of terror that was unrelenting.
Was Sinclair still in Cotter Creek? Those gunshots tonight were intended to kill her. Had his intention been to kill them all, then pluck Sammy from her dead arms?
She now recognized that Sinclair would do anything to get Sammy. The man was insane. Was it truly about him wanting a son, or was it more than that?
Maybe he was angry that she’d left town and was afraid that once she was out of Sandstone, she’d feel safe enough to talk about what he’d done to her. It was impossible to know the man’s mind. A chill washed over her, and it had nothing to do with the coolness of the room.
Once the bed was made she placed Sammy in the middle, then walked back into the living room, knowing that sleep would be a long time coming.
She stood at the living-room window and stared out into the darkness of night, her thoughts going to the man who had just left.
Smelling the scent of his pleasant cologne, which lingered in the air, she wrapped her arms around her middle and tried not to allow herself to wish for a life different than the one she’d been handed.
The memory of that single kiss she’d shared with Dalton warmed the chilled places inside her. What would it be like to kiss him longer, harder? What would it be like to lie naked in his arms, to make love with him?
She hadn’t been with any man since the night of her rape, but she knew how good lovemaking could be if it was between two people who cared about each other. When she was twenty-one she’d had a relationship with a man that had lasted almost a year. They had enjoyed a healthy sex life for the last three months of their time together.
Although that relationship had ended, she was grateful now that she’d had it. It would have been terrible to know nothing about sex except those horrid minutes on the side of the road with Sinclair.
She could care for a man like Dalton West, a man who not only stole a bit of her breath away whenever she looked at him, but also radiated the strength and assurance of a good man.
Turning away from the window she released a deep sigh. The last thing she needed to be thinking of was indulging in an affair with Dalton. She was an uneducated woman with a son who was the product of rape. What made her think a man like Dalton West would ever want anything to do with her?
What she’d better figure out instead was how she was going to stay one step ahead of a demented man who wanted to take the only thing she cared about, a man who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.
Chapter 7
Zack’s patrol car was still in front of George’s place when Dalton pulled into the driveway. He’d spent the entire drive back from the cabin trying to figure out exactly what he intended to tell his brother.
His first priority was to protect Janette, but equally as important was his desire to protect his brother. He refused to put Zack in a position where he had to choose between doing the right thing and handing Janette over to Brandon Sinclair, or doing the wrong thing and jeopardizing the job he loved.
He got out of his car, aware that he was about to walk a very fine line. George’s front door was open, and when Dalton walked in Zack greeted him with a deep frown of frustration.
“It’s about time you showed up. You want to tell me what’s going on?” Zack asked. “A fire of suspicious origins and gunshots, and I can’t get George here to tell me anything.”
George sat on his sofa, his arms folded across his chest and a stubborn glint in his brown eyes. “I can’t tell you what I don’t know,” he exclaimed fervently. “I don’t know how those rags started on fire in my basement and I sure as hell don’t have a clue who shot at us when we ran out of the house.”
“How much damage did the fire do?” Dalton asked, stalling for time.
“Thank God it was more smoke than flame,” George replied. “Burned up a couple of boxes I had stored down there, but nothing too serious.”
“Good.” Dalton turned to his brother. “Why don’t you and I go up to my place and let George get some sleep? He’s not used to this much excitement in the middle of the night.”
“You got that right,” George exclaimed.
Zack nodded, his jaw muscle knotted with obvious frustration. Dalton told George good-night, then together he and Zack went upstairs.
Once in Dalton’s living room Zack sat on the edge of the sofa and stared at his brother. “Now talk,” he demanded. “I need some answers from somebody and as far as I can tell you’re the only one around here who might have them.”
Dalton remained standing. “Earlier this evening Sheriff Brandon Sinclair from Sandstone knocked on my door and told me he was looking for a woman wanted for theft and questioning in a murder case and had reason to believe she had come to me. I told him I didn’t know the woman, but I don’t think he believed me.”
Zack frowned. “Why would he think this woman would come to you?”
“I don’t know. He said something about finding my name and number in the trailer where this woman lives.”
Zack watched him intently. “And you don’t know this woman. What’s her name?”
“According to Sinclair, her name is Janette Black, and, no, I don’t know her. I can’t imagine why she would have had my name and phone number.”
“So, what? What does Sinclair have to do with the fire and the gunplay that took place here tonight?”
Dalton shrugged. “All I can tell you is that he was here asking about a woman named Janette Black. I told him I’d never heard of her and she certainly wasn’t here, then he left. Hours later I woke up to smoke filling the house and I ran downstairs and woke up George. We ran out the front door and somebody started shooting at us.”
Zack’s frown deepened. “Why would Sinclair do something like that?”
“I don’t know. All I can tell you is what happened,” Dalton replied. The most difficult thing he’d ever done was hold his brother’s gaze while he knew he wasn’t telling the whole truth.
“Was the shooter targeting both you and George?”
“No, just me,” Dalton answered. “I returned fire, jumped into my truck and that’s when you got here.”
“Handy that you just happened to have your gun with you when you ran out of the house.”
“Dad always taught us to be prepared for anything,” Dalton replied easily. “And to be honest, something about Sinclair didn’t sit quite right with me. Call it instinct.”
“Where have you been for the last hour?” Zack asked, watching Dalton intently.
“Driving…making sure nobody was following me.” Although the lie fell effortlessly from his lips, he hated the way it felt inside. “I wanted to draw any danger there might be away from this house and George, but I didn’t see anyone following me.”
Zack frowned again. “This just doesn’t make any sense. Why would Brandon Sinclair do something like this? I know Brandon. We’ve met for beers a couple of times. He’s always seemed like a stand-up guy to me.”
“If you’re investigating the shooting and the fire, I recommend you start the investigation by checking Mr. Stand-up Guy’s alibi,” Dalton countered lightly.
“Is there some history here that I don’t know anything about? Have you and Brandon had run-ins before?”
“Definitely not. I’d never met the man before he showed up on my doorstep earlier this evening.”
“You having problems with anyone else? Are you working on something that I don’t know about? Something to do with West Protective Services?”
“Nothing.”
Zack stood, obviously as frustrated as he had been when Dalton had arrived. “I don’t know, bro. I get the feeling you’re not telling me everything.”
“Believe me, when I figure out what’s going on you’ll be one of the first to know,” Dalton promised.
Zack headed for the door. “You want me to put one of my deputies on the house? Keep an eye on things for the rest of the night?”
Dalton shook his head. “I have a feeling the excitement is over for the night.” With Janette out of the apartment there was no reason for Brandon Sinclair to come calling again. And if he did, Dalton would be ready.
“You’ll let me know if you think of anything else?”
“Of course,” Dalton said. He watched as his brother opened the door and started to step outside, then paused and turned back to look at Dalton.
“Must have been a fast-moving bug,” he said.
“Excuse me?” Dalton frowned in confusion.
“The flu. You seem to be feeling much better now.” Zack had a knowing glint in his eyes.
“I am. Must have been a twenty-four-hour bug that ran its course.” Dalton hoped his cheeks weren’t dark with the color of the lie.
Zack held his gaze for a long moment. “Dalton, you’d tell me if you were in trouble, right?” This time there was no frustration on Zack’s features, only the deep concern of a brother.
Dalton wanted to tell him everything, but before he could do that he needed to talk to Janette. “I’m fine, really,” he said, but he could tell his words did nothing to assure his brother.
Zack disappeared out the door. Dalton breathed a huge sigh of relief and sat on the edge of the sofa where Zack had been only seconds before.
It was obvious that George had stayed true to his word and hadn’t breathed a word to Zack about Janette and Sammy being there.
A glance at the clock let Dalton know it was almost four. The last thing on his mind was sleep. He dropped his head into his hands and tried to make sense of everything that had gone down, everything he hadn’t told his brother.
Glory, Glory: Snowbound with the Bodyguard Page 24