by Mia Kay
“What is it?” she asked, softening her question this time.
“Rhett reminds me of someone I used to work with.”
“It must be sort of jarring, making a change this big. What’s your friend like?”
“He died.”
“Would you like to—”
“No,” he said, cutting her off. “Where are we?”
“About ten minutes out,” Maggie said, searching for a new conversation thread. She knew about death, better than most, probably. She also knew about avoiding the topic way better than most. She pointed out the windshield, directing Gray’s attention to his right. “Those are the best hiking woods in the county. Nate, Kevin, Michael and I would pack a huge lunch, hitch a ride on a lumber truck and come out here to play Robin Hood all day. Dad would find us walking home at five when the whistle blew and give us a ride back to town. He always acted mad, but then he’d sit at the dining room table and listen to Nate tell stories for hours.”
“Was it difficult, being the only girl?”
“Sometimes, but when we were alone, just the four of us, they didn’t treat me like a girl. And I didn’t have anyone else. Abby didn’t move here until we were teenagers, and even then she stayed close to home. Then Charlene and Tiffany came along, and I wasn’t the only girl anymore.”
She pulled into Orrin’s back lot and parked. “You go on, it’s almost five.”
Gray got out of the truck, but he walked to the back and grabbed a box. “I’ll help you get these in. Where do you want them?”
“Just leave them in the doorway, I’ll move them later.”
He stood there, the box in his hands, and one eyebrow arched.
“Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes as she opened the door. “If you’ll take them up to my landing, I can just slide them into the apartment.” When he began to protest, she cut him off. “My door is locked, and we’re running out of time to open. Besides, the guys know it’s off-limits.’”
That seemed to make him happy. After two trips up the stairs, he took the keys from her. “I’ll be back later. I want to talk to Nate about my meeting.”
Standing on the back porch, she watched him drive away. The whistle from the gravel quarry sounded first, then the sand pit, then the shale quarry and finally the lumber yard. They grew to a whining chorus. Maggie ran upstairs, squeezing past the boxes to get into her apartment so she could change. She was down in seconds, buckling the braces of her overalls as she came around the corner. The trucks were already lining Broadway when she unlocked the front door.
Despite the steady pace of service and conversation, it took her hours to quit looking at the back door every time someone moved. Soon, however, she was caught up in the stories the guys were telling as they crowded the bar. She loved hearing them, because they weren’t about the past. These were all things in the future—their families, their plans. Sometimes they talked about themselves, about their worries, but not often. Their wives did more of that.
She was cashing out a tab when someone set a carry-out container next to the register. Pie. Her stomach fluttered as she recognized Gray’s hand.
“Coconut cream’s your favorite, I think.” His laughter was muffled as he stuck his head in the cooler. “You’re out of Shiner. What kind of bar do you run, anyway?”
She smacked him with her towel. “I run the best bar in town. There’s Shiner in the storeroom, but I haven’t had time to get it. Someone kept me out of the office all afternoon, and they’re kicking my ass tonight.”
He walked away, only to return with a case of his favorite beer. Then with a case of Budweiser. Then a case of Bud Light. “What else do you need?”
“Umm, that’ll do it. Thanks. Why don’t you go talk to Nate?”
Instead, he knelt and stacked everything in the cooler. Every clink of glass on glass reminded Maggie that an extremely good-looking, smart guy was on the floor at her feet, with his head on level with her waist, and her ass, and her... She was glad the cooler door was open. She could blame her puckered nipples on that.
“What kind of pie did you have?” she asked, grasping for something to say.
“Pecan,” he muttered as he handed a beer to a waiting customer.
Toasted pecans and syrupy sweetness. He tipped his beer and swallowed, and she gulped, too. He probably tasted amazing.
Her face hot, she wheeled around just as Jerry Mitchell arrived. Perfect distraction. She needed to talk to him anyway.
“Hi, Jerry. How are things?”
She could guess how things were based on the shadows under his eyes and his drooped shoulders. Sure enough, his tale made her forget all about Gray. It wasn’t until Jerry was done, gone to visit with friends and forget his troubles for a moment that she looked around. Gray was still there, serving her regulars at the other end of the bar and keeping them clear of her conversation. Helping her.
When quitting time came, she locked the door and yawned. Gray carried the empty bottles to the back door. Instead of leaving, he returned and started wiping down tables, putting the chairs on them as he went. She got her janitor supplies from the closet. While she swept the floors, he wiped down the bar.
As they left the room, she carried her pie in one hand and turned off the lights behind them. At the back door, they separated and she trudged up the stairs to the tower of boxes waiting outside her door.
“G’night,” he said, his rich voice making the soft word echo.
She turned to see him waiting in the half-opened back door. “Thanks for your help tonight, and for the pie.”
He nodded and left, his keys jingling before the dead bolt clicked home. Heavy footfalls down the steps, the roar of an engine then silence.
Realizing she was standing there, listening for him to come back, Maggie sighed and finished her climb. She slid the boxes inside her apartment, turned out the hallway lights and locked herself in. After stashing her dessert in the refrigerator, she shuffled to the bathroom. Everything else in her life could wait until tomorrow.
* * *
Cracking open the men’s room door, he listened in the darkness. The ceiling creaked above him and then water sang through the pipes. She was in the shower.
Since he’d sat for a while in the dark bathroom, his eyes were already adjusted to the inky blackness of the bar. It made it easier to move, and faster. He needed to be quick. Tiptoeing into the office, he went to work, searching for anything that would tell him who this stranger was. Searching the house this afternoon had turned up nothing. The office was his last hope. Gray had kept Maggie with him all day, kept her from playing their game. Who was he?
Holding the penlight in his mouth the way they did in the movies, he sat at the desk and flipped through papers and files. Gray’s personnel file was on top. College, law school—that wasn’t such a big deal. Anyone could go to college. Several people had gone later in life. He could do that. The pencil in his fingers snapped, and the crack echoed in the darkness. He froze and jerked his gaze to the ceiling, listening for the door to open. It didn’t.
He went back to searching for clues. The next files were full of business documents and notes. Numbers crowded together, and he gave up quickly. He wasn’t exactly sure what he should be searching for anyway. The trash was empty. Gray hadn’t worked very long today. He was probably a lazy college frat boy.
Instead he looked around the office from this perspective. He liked sitting in here, pretending to be the boss, staring across the darkened room and acting out how he would manage the companies once he married Maggie. He’d help her so she didn’t have to work so hard. She wouldn’t have time anyway. She’d be busy with their children. Lots of them. A full house. No more loneliness. Never again—for either of them.
Overhead, the water stopped and the ceiling creaked. She was going to bed.
Easing from the
chair, he balanced his hand on the back to keep it from squeaking and then avoided all the warped floorboards, keeping his step light.
Stopping at the bar, he slid a candy jar from his coat pocket. It was smaller than what he’d wanted, but the delicate glass was cut just right to throw rainbows across the room in the sunlight. Maggie would like that. Unzipping the bag, he filled the jar with red licorice bites. She liked those too. The first time she’d sat next to him at lunch, they’d shared a package.
That done, he walked down the hallway, keeping close to the stairway side. The floor didn’t squeak here. The stairs were harder, though. It had taken him weeks to find out which stairs squeaked, and now he was proud of his memory and his dedication as he navigated the way to her door. Standing on the landing, he listened to make sure she was asleep and then twisted the doorknob gently. It was locked.
Pulling the rose from his pocket, he straightened the stem and put it at her door. She’d see it first thing in the morning and know he’d kept his word. He’d surprised her.
Taking the same care as before, he crept back to the first floor. Once there, he walked to the front door, eased the dead bolt open and slipped outside. He hated not locking it, but he’d stay across the street tonight and keep an eye on her.
Chapter Five
Gray walked through the back door and followed his nose to coffee.
After a day of being folded in the truck and in Rhett Maxwell’s cramped office, and then into the booth at the diner—not to mention carrying those damn boxes—he’d rewarded himself with a Vicodin. And slept until nine.
Maggie had propped a note against a candy dish full of licorice next to the cash register. She’d gone to the library. Without giving himself time to think, he filled his travel mug and walked to the front door. He stopped with his hand on the dead bolt. It was unlocked. She’d left the door unlocked?
He secured the building before he walked up the street, intent on finding Maggie. Just to keep her safe. It had nothing to do with their trip yesterday or working behind the bar with her last night. It didn’t matter that the truck still smelled like her perfume or that her laughter tickled his ears until his fingers twitched. He’d get used to her. He’d have to. He couldn’t protect her if he was distracted.
Trotting up the concrete steps, he winced as his body spasmed and forced him to a halt. Shit. He couldn’t even move past walking, on a flat surface, in daylight. How the hell was he supposed to protect anyone?
“Can I help?”
He opened his eyes to see a pretty brunette staring at him from behind her glasses. She was in bright pink scrubs. Her smile dimpled her cheeks as she stuck out her hand. “Diana Fisher.”
“Gray Harper,” he replied. Dropping her hand, he plodded up the steps at a slower pace.
“New injury?” Diana asked as she fell into step. “Sorry, job hazard. I’m a physical therapist at the hospital.”
He held the door for her and followed her into the quiet space. “Yes. My therapist in Chicago told me to find one here. I haven’t had time yet.”
Diana pulled a card from her pocket. “Call for an appointment. We’ve got a light load right now, so we’ll be able to get started quickly. It was nice to meet you.” She looked past him. “Hi, Maggie.”
“Hi, Diana. I see you’ve met our new business manager.”
“We were just getting acquainted.” Diana waved at both of them as she walked farther into the quiet space. “See you later.”
Maggie looked up at him, arching her brow. Forgetting his pain, Gray laughed. “Don’t start.”
“Not a word. I promised,” she said. “Why are you here?”
“I wondered if it was as distinctive on the inside,” he lied, scanning the room and registering wooden floors, tall narrow windows and brick walls surrounding shelves and shelves of books. Yep. Library. “And I thought I’d get a library card.”
Maggie led him to the large circular desk in the middle of the room. Gray filled out a card and then tore it up because he’d written his Chicago address. After properly completing another, he browsed a display of classics while waiting for them to laminate his card. Borrowing a book would make his appearance here less suspicious. He slid The Man in the Iron Mask across the desk. “I’d like to borrow this. Do I need to wait?”
The librarian shook her head and scanned the book before handing it back with a wide smile. “It’s due in three weeks. Welcome to the library, Gray.”
* * *
That done, he escorted Maggie out of the building. “Where to?”
“Home,” she said as she turned toward the bar. “I’ve been working since early this morning on Rhett’s files. They’re a mess. I don’t know why I’m surprised about that.” She elbowed him. “But you surprised me this morning. Thanks.”
He slowed, confused by her words and how his skin warmed at the simple touch. However, the tingle in his spine went to intuition, not attraction. “What?”
“The candy. How did you know I liked licorice?”
“I didn’t leave you anything. Maggie, I just got to work. I overslept.” Damn. He wished he had his gun. “Whoever it was could’ve come through the front door. You really do need to remember—” Her wide eyes stole his words and gave him time to think. “You locked it last night.”
The color leached from her face as she nodded.
“And I locked the back door,” he muttered as he pulled her down the sidewalk. They needed to get out of sight, but the nearest sanctuary was the bar, and it was a crime scene.
Once they were there, he put her behind him as he unlocked the door and slid inside.
“Stay here and call Glen. If you hear anything weird, run.”
He cleared each room, one at a time, until he reached the back stairs. Staring up at her closed door, his world tilted. There was no way to know what was on the other side of that door, and he was unarmed—and one-armed if he was honest. He looked back toward the sunshine. Maggie was still in the doorway, but now Glen Roberts and Max Caldwell, the patrolman from Saturday, were with her.
The officers joined him and went upstairs, guns drawn. Gray went back to Maggie.
“All clear!” Glen shouted.
Gray locked the front door and walked Maggie to the bar.
Glen met them there, his face grim as he held up a wilted white rose. “This was on the upstairs landing behind the door. You must’ve swept it there when you came downstairs this morning.”
Maggie dropped to a bar stool, and Gray sat opposite her, knee to knee. Bile churned in his stomach, as he listened to Glen call for a crime scene kit. Instead of commandeering the investigation, he took Maggie’s shaky fingers in his and waited. Once she was breathing normally, he broached the subject.
“Could Rhett have put it in a box with the files?”
“No!” She tugged her fingers, but he kept hold of her and made her stop and think. Her next statement was slower. “We helped load those boxes. He couldn’t have. Not without us seeing him.”
He nodded. “Could one of the guys have gone up there last night while you were busy?”
“Yes.” Her throat bobbed in convulsive swallows. “But the boxes were there until after closing. And I moved them myself. I would’ve stepped on it. And it doesn’t explain the candy.”
Taking a deep breath, he stood. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
The investigation didn’t take him long. He knew what he’d been working on yesterday before they’d left, and now everything was in a different order. He picked up the pieces of broken pencil. Sickened, he trudged back to the bar. Glen and Max had joined Maggie, and Gray faced them, extending the useless shards of wood. “Someone’s been in the office.”
Maggie put her hand over her mouth. Her eyes were wide and her knuckles were white. Gray walked behind her and put his hands o
n her shoulders.
Glen took charge. “Maggie, did you hear anything?”
With her hand still over her mouth, she shook her head. Gray squeezed her shoulders, pulling her to him, offering her shelter as she trembled. He cleared his throat. “So you’re thinking he knew how to get around without making any noise?”
Max looked around the room and said what they were all thinking. “He’s done this before.”
Maggie inhaled from behind her hand, and her exhale shook in tiny puffs, as she fought to keep her spine straight and twitched with the effort to stay on her perch. Gray wrapped her tighter, hoping it was reassuring. “Fingerprints are probably useless, busy as we were last night.”
“Yes,” Glen stood. “But we’ll put Max on the street at night.”
Those words galvanized Maggie. “No. It’s not necessary to treat me—”
Differently than anyone else. Gray could predict the Mathis motto. “Glen, let me and Maggie talk for a few minutes, please.”
Once they were alone, Gray faced her again. “Let them do this. Glen’s worried about you. It’ll make him feel better.”
“I used to wipe Max Caldwell’s dirty ass,” she grumbled in a whisper.
“I hope he was much, much younger,” Gray teased.
Despite her pallid complexion, she snorted a laugh. “Much. But that doesn’t change that I’m used to him going to bed early, and to telling him what to do.”
“Him too?” He teased. “Try not doing it. Just this once.”
Taking a deep breath, she licked her lips and nodded. “Okay.”
The moisture on her bottom lip made his tongue twitch. Her hair glowed in the sunlight streaming through the windows, and his fingers curved with the memory of holding her. He wanted to spend the day with her, talking to her like this and making her laugh. She licked her lips again, and his entire body tingled. He wanted to do more than talk to her.
But he had to keep her safe. “I’ll call an alarm company. It won’t take long to install a system.”
This time, she shook her head. “I don’t want to be a prisoner here.”