by Karen Foley
Holly was dumb with shock. How could she have not known this? How was it that he had kept such a thing secret?
“I’m so sorry,” she said, her chest tightening with sympathy for what he had gone through. “You must have been devastated.”
“We both were. I was angry at her for dying and I blamed my father for not making her happy when she was alive.” He shook his head. “But he blamed himself even more. That’s when he began drinking. I think her death haunted him. He couldn’t keep a job and eventually we lost the house. We lost everything. As soon as I could, I quit school so that I could work full time and find us another place to live. Eventually, my dad began to pull himself together and we found a stable in Chatham willing to give him another chance. That’s when we moved into the apartment over the drugstore.”
“Shane…” She had no words in which to express her sympathy for what he’d been through, but hearing his story explained so much, including his reluctance to become involved with her. “I don’t know what to say. I never knew…never guessed.”
He smiled stoically. “It was a long time ago.”
“What about your grandparents? Do you ever see them?”
He shook his head, and his voice turned almost feral. “I have no relationship with them, and no interest in seeing them.”
“Does Mitch know all of this?”
“Yes. Why do you think he tolerated having me around so much? He knew how much I hated living over the drugstore. Even though my old man wasn’t around that often, I didn’t want to spend any time with him.”
“Mitch didn’t tolerate you. You were his best friend. You were the brother he never had. And as for your father…you sacrificed everything to take care of him,” Holly said in amazement. “No wonder you were angry. You were a child, forced to become the adult.”
They were quiet for a moment and although Holly wanted to take Shane in her arms and comfort him, she knew instinctively that he would not welcome such a gesture.
“I’m not like her,” she finally ventured. “Your mother, I mean.”
Shane twisted his head to consider her. “No, you’re not.”
“I only meant that I appreciate the lifestyle my parents were able to provide me, but I’ve never felt entitled to it. I have a job and I can take care of myself. I would never depend on someone else, not even a husband.”
Shane gave a huff of humorless laughter. “Trust me, I realize that.” Shielding his eyes, he looked at the sky. Clouds had begun to form over the lake and a breeze had kicked up, turning the smooth surface of the water into small whitecaps. Pushing himself to his feet, he extended a hand to her. “C’mon, we should head back. Looks like we might get a storm.”
Retrieving her panties from where they had been discarded, Holly quickly slipped them on, watching as Shane picked up his T-shirt and pulled it over his head. They folded the quilt in silence and Holly watched as he shoved it unceremoniously back into the tote bag. He was remote and silent during the short walk back to the dinghy, although he took care to help Holly along the uneven path.
She could scarcely believe this was the same man who, less than an hour earlier, had loved her so thoroughly. She had thought that sharing his story with her would have brought them closer together. Instead, he was distant and withdrawn and Holly struggled to find the right words to bring him back. She watched as he pushed the dinghy out onto the water and then pulled strongly on the oars, propelling them swiftly across the choppy water.
By the time they reached the dock, the sky was dark and the water churned beneath them. Shane secured the small boat and, despite the cast on his leg, climbed neatly onto the pier. Holly handed him the cooler and the tote bag, but was unprepared when he reached down and lifted her bodily out of the row boat and onto the dock.
She swayed against him for a moment, her hands braced on his muscular arms. “Are you okay?” she finally asked. “You’re so quiet. I didn’t mean to dredge up bad memories for you.”
The wind ruffled her hair and he pushed a strand of it back from her face. “You didn’t,” he assured her, but his hazel eyes were turbulent. “The memories are there whether I want them, or not.”
A large splotch of water landed on Holly’s bare shoulder, followed by another and then another. They both blinked as a sudden flash of lightening streaked overhead, followed by a deafening clap of thunder. Then the skies opened up and a deluge of rain poured down on them.
Shane shoved the tote bag into her hands and turned her around. “Go up to the house,” he ordered. “I’ll be in as soon as I’m finished here.”
“What are you going to do?”
The pelting rain sluiced down his face and plastered his T-shirt against his skin until it was nearly transparent, clinging to his pecs and the layers of muscle on his abdomen. His eyelashes were spiky with moisture. “I’m just going to bring the dinghy into the boathouse. Go on in. You’re soaking wet.”
His gaze dropped to her breasts and looking down, Holly realized her wet dress clung to her skin, leaving little to the imagination. “What about your cast? Are you sure it’s okay to get it wet?”
“It’ll be fine!” he shouted as another thunder-clap sounded overhead, making her jump. “Now go inside!”
“I can wait for you in the boathouse!” Holly replied, and turned toward the small building.
But Shane captured her wrist in his hand, halting her. “Go up to the main house, Holly. This storm is only going to get worse and I really don’t want you in the boathouse. Not after what happened this morning.” Another crack of thunder split the sky and Shane turned her toward the house. “Go!”
Holly did. She ran the length of the dock, shielding her eyes against the driving rain, and taking care not to slip on the wet grass as she made her way up the sloping lawn toward the house. She’d just reached the staircase to the deck when a slick patch of ground caused her to lose her balance and stumble forward, and she landed on her knees on the sodden ground. At the same instant another crack of thunder rent the air, and the corner of the top step exploded in a burst of wooden splinters. Time itself seemed to slow down as Holly stared, stupefied, at the damaged step. Slowly, she rose to her feet, but was immediately propelled back to the ground by two hundred pounds of hard, wet male.
“Get down, get down!” Shane shouted, and he covered her body with his own, driving the breath out of her lungs as he flattened her against the wet grass.
She barely had time to register his weight before it was gone. He rolled off of her and jerked her roughly to her feet, half carrying and half dragging her into the shadows beneath the deck where a half dozen kayaks were stacked on a wooden storage rack. Even then, he kept her pressed between his body and the concrete foundation of the house.
“Are you hurt?” he asked urgently, his hands sweeping over her, searching for injuries.
Even in the deep gloom, Holly saw he was white around the mouth and there was a desperation to his touch.
“I’m okay,” Holly assured him, gasping for breath as she shivered against him. “What was that?”
“Gunshot,” Shane said grimly, peering out at the woods that surrounded the house, as if he might spot the shooter through the battering storm and the protective trees.
“What?” Holly was certain she’d misheard him. “Did you say gunshot?”
He turned to look at her, his eyes blazing. “Someone tried to fricking shoot you! C’mon, we’ve got to get into the house and call the police.”
Holly followed Shane around the corner of the house to the basement entrance and once they were inside, Shane bolted the door behind them. “Stay right behind me,” he ordered quietly. “No lights, no talking. Got it?”
Holly nodded, aware that she was trembling. As she followed him through the basement level and up the stairs to the main house, she hooked her fingers through the belt loops on the back of his shorts, needing to have some contact with him.
When they reached the kitchen, Shane pushed Holly into a sitting posi
tion against an interior wall. “Stay here, don’t move.”
“Be careful.” She watched as he made his way quietly through the house, checking to ensure the doors and windows were secure, and surveying the surrounding landscape for any signs of movement. After several long moments he came back, and Holly saw he carried a handgun, which he tucked into the back of his shorts.
“Where did you get that?” she asked, frightened. She’d had weapons training, but until the attack in Iraq, she’d never actually had to use one. Seeing the gun in Shane’s hands brought the memories of that day rushing back and she found herself going hot and cold with dread.
“Your dad keeps several guns in a closet upstairs,” Shane reminded her. He crouched beside her and withdrew his cell phone and then paused to look at her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes. How did you get to me so quickly back there? I didn’t even realize what had happened until you’d pulled me under the deck. And your leg…how did you move so fast?”
“I was watching you go to the house, and then something in the woods distracted me—a movement in the trees. I thought it was a deer and then I heard the gunshot. I saw you fall, and for a second I thought—” He broke off abruptly and swiped a hand over his face. “Christ, Holly.”
“I’m okay.” Holly rubbed her hands briskly over his arms. “But you need to get out of these wet clothes, Shane. You’ll catch cold.”
Lowering his hand, Shane looked at her in disbelief and then started to laugh. “You nearly got your head blown off, and you’re worried about me catching a cold?”
“Maybe it was a hunter,” she suggested hopefully, ignoring his grim humor. “We get hunters in the woods out here sometimes. The lake house is pretty isolated, and sometimes they don’t see the marked signs.”
Shane pulled out his cell phone and began to punch in numbers, even as he gave her a tolerant look. “Why would a hunter be out in this storm, and what would he be doing so close to the house? He was at the edge of the woods, close enough to realize he was on private property. Even with the rain, no one could have mistaken you for a deer. Not to mention that deer hunting season doesn’t begin for another five months.”
Holly waited while he made the call, knowing he was right. But she couldn’t think of one reason why anyone would want to shoot at her. The whole incident had to be a mistake; some kind of misunderstanding.
What other explanation could there be?
8
TWO PATROL CARS RESPONDED to Shane’s call. One of the officers stayed at the house with Holly, while Shane showed the sheriff and two other deputies where he had seen the movement in the trees. He hadn’t wanted to leave Holly in the house, not even with a deputy to protect her. Just thinking about the close call she’d had made him go hot, then cold inside. He replayed the incident in his mind, over and over and each time he felt weak with the realization that she’d nearly been killed. He didn’t want to let her out of his sight, even for a second. But he needed to show the sheriff where he’d seen the shooter. There, in the damp pine needles and mud, they retrieved a single shell casing.
“Looks like he left a trail,” the sheriff said, crouching down to examine the broken undergrowth. He glanced pointedly at Shane’s cast. “Why don’t you stay here, while we see what we can find?”Shane waited while the officers disappeared into the forest. They were gone less than an hour.
“The forest provided some protection from the rain, and we tracked the intruder’s path to a dirt road on the edge of the Durant property,” the sheriff said. There they’d found some tire marks in the mud, as if someone had left in a hurry, but the rain had turned the entire area into a quagmire and they hadn’t been able to obtain any additional evidence.
Except for the bullet.
Outside the house, Shane watched as they dug the spent slug out of the wooden step and examined it.
“The casing looks like a .270 Winchester, and this type of bullet is used fairly commonly among hunters, usually to bring down big game,” the sheriff commented, turning the flattened bullet over in his fingers. “Probably fired from a long range hunting rifle, like a Remington 7400.”
Shane could see Holly standing just inside the French doors of the kitchen, watching them. He felt restless and irritable. He wanted to hurt someone. He wanted the son of a bitch who had fired that shot behind bars. He wanted to know why he’d taken a crack at Holly. Most of all, he wanted to be in the kitchen with Holly, reassuring her that nothing would happen to her, not while he was there to watch over her. He wanted to know that Holly was safe.
He kept his voice low. “You must have access to the gun permits in this region. Can’t you do a cross-check to see who owns one of these hunting rifles?”
The sheriff gave Shane a look of disbelief. “Son, this is Virginia. Every other man in this state owns a hunting rifle. Trying to identify the owner of this particular shell amounts to looking for a needle in a haystack.”
“But you don’t really think this was some random hunter who thought Holly was a deer, do you?” Shane asked. “Especially considering how the boat engine was rigged. And it’s not hunting season.”
“Could be just a poacher or vandals. Then again, maybe not.” The sheriff narrowed his eyes at Shane. “Maybe it’s a disgruntled ex who didn’t like seeing her shacked up with you.”
“She has no ex, disgruntled or otherwise,” Shane bit out.
“Maybe it’s someone who has a grudge against her daddy, or has something against the war. Hell, boy, we could stand here all night exchanging discourse on the vagaries of human nature, but until we get this bullet back to a forensics lab, we’re not going to know much.”
Shane scrubbed a hand across his hair, frustrated. “Okay, fine. But let me know as soon as you learn anything.”
“You might want to bring Ms. Durant back to her parents’ house in Chatham,” the sheriff suggested. “At least until we get this thing figured out. Be a damn shame to have her survive getting gunshot in Iraq, only to get killed in her own summer home. She’ll be safer in Chatham, where it’s not so remote.”
Shane bristled at the implication, despite knowing the sheriff was right. “She’ll be safe here, with me. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to her parents. At least not until we know for sure what happened. They’re worried enough about her as it is.”
“Right.” The officer’s expression didn’t change, but his tone suggested he didn’t agree with Shane, either about keeping Holly safe or about keeping her parents ignorant of the afternoon’s events.
Shane watched them leave and returned to the house, closing the door with a decisive click, before throwing the deadbolt. They were a bunch of idiots; keystone cops who probably spent more time in the local donut shop than they did actually fighting crime. He had absolutely no confidence that they would trace the bullet back to a weapon, or the weapon back to an actual person.
He couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to harm Holly, but the officer’s words haunted him. Did Holly have a former boyfriend who might have seen them on the island together and been angry enough to want to kill her? Shane was certain that if she hadn’t slipped on the wet grass, the bullet would have struck her in the skull.
The thought made him go queasy and he bent his head to the doorframe as he sucked in air and reminded himself that she was okay. Nothing was going to happen to her while he was there. He wouldn’t allow it.
“Hey, are you okay?”
He pushed himself away from the wall and straightened, giving Holly what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m good. How about you?”
“I’m fine. What did they say? Was it a hunter?”
Shane looked sharply at her. She didn’t actually believe the shooting had been an accident, did she? Her expression was both hopeful and frightened, and he realized that he didn’t want to tell her about his suspicions. She’d been through too much. How much more could she take? In that instant, she seemed both vulnerable and fragile to him, bu
t he wouldn’t lie to her.
“A poacher, most likely,” he conceded. “With the heavy rain, he probably mistook you for a deer, or maybe the storm startled him into firing accidentally. Either way, there’s no sign of him now.”
“What a relief.” A light shudder ran through her. “I’m so glad you’re here. I love the lake house but sometimes it seems very isolated.”
“Who knows you’re out here?”
Holly shrugged. “My parents. My friend, Susan, who drove me here. Pete Larson. I think that’s it. I was trying to get away from people, so to tell everyone that I was coming to the lake house would have defeated my purpose.”
“Do you have any former boyfriends or lovers who might object to you being here with me?” He said the words brusquely, trying to keep his voice matter-of-fact. She was entitled to a past that didn’t involve him.
“What?” Her voice registered her astonishment. “You don’t actually believe this was anything more than an accident, do you? I’ve been coming out here my entire life and nothing like this has ever happened before.”
“My point, exactly. So why now, when you’re here with me?”
“The very idea is ludicrous!”
“Holly, just tell me,” he persisted, feeling like a Class A jerk. Now she was completely freaked out, but there was no turning back. “Is there someone who might be jealous or angry enough to want to hurt you? Or scare you?”
“No!” She gestured wildly with one hand. “As pathetic as it sounds, there isn’t a single guy I can think of who would care if I slept with an entire platoon of Marines, never mind just one.”
I would care.
For a heart-stopping moment, Shane thought he might have uttered the words aloud, but when Holly’s expression didn’t change, he relaxed just a little. He hadn’t expected her to have hordes of former lovers. But neither had he expected her to remain celibate during the past three years. It only made sense that a girl with Holly’s looks and personality would have had at least a few former boyfriends.