Storm's Interlude

by Vonnie Davis

  Jackson came inside. “Lordy, but something smells good!”

  “It’s me, Unkie Jack.” The boy held out his arm. “Mommy sprayed some of her pa-fume on me.”

  Storm’s gaze slid over to Jackson. “The boy needs a sister for Sunny to spoil.”

  Noella cleared her throat, her stance prim and proper. “I feel too much testosterone in my kitchen. There are correct steps that must be taken. I’ll stand for no less for my girls.” She waved a hand to Sunny and Rachel. “They deserve the best.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me, Momma Noella.” Storm set Sawyer in his booster seat. He glanced at Jackson. Would he tell Rachel about her car, or should he? Now or after breakfast? “Jackson, let’s enjoy these pancakes. We’ll talk later. Okay?”

  Noella had outdone herself with breakfast—eggs, pancakes, bacon, fried steak, home fries, red-eye gravy, fried apples, biscuits with homemade plum jam. Rachel indulged in a little of everything. Storm watched her every movement, the way she engaged everyone in conversation, her smile, her low sultry laughter. This was the first of many such breakfasts, he’d see to it. First, Kyle Benson had to be arrested and locked away for a long time. Then, and only then, could he relax and enjoy this new happiness that had suddenly colored his world.

  After the breakfast dishes were loaded into the dishwasher, Noella took Sawyer upstairs to pull the boxed train from his closet.

  Sunny raised the cup of green tea Rachel had brewed for her to her lips. “Okay, you two, out with it. You’ve been shooting looks at each other all through breakfast.”

  Jackson squirmed in his seat and stared into his coffee mug for a beat. “There was some trouble at the Dew Drop Inn a couple hours ago.” His gaze swung to Rachel. “Your car was torched.”

  “What?” Rachel’s eyes opened wide.

  Jackson lifted his gaze to hers and took a sip. “Destroyed, I’m afraid.”

  She paled. “Kyle?”

  “Nora Mae described him as five-eight, five-nine. Good-looking, short blond hair.”

  Rachel nodded, her face an expression of terror. “Yes, that’s him. He’s here in Rosefire. I need…I need…" She started to rise. Her breathing was rapid, and she was obviously fighting for control.

  Sunny stood. “I’m going upstairs with my baby. Brother, Jackson”—she shot both men a hard look—“you two do whatever it takes to keep us safe. I want this psycho caught, drawn and quartered.” She punctured the air with her finger as she spoke, then turned, and hurried upstairs.

  Storm reached out and tugged Rachel onto his lap. If there was one thing he’d learned earlier today, she wouldn’t be pushed or ordered about. Probably the best thing was to engage her in their protection efforts. “You know Kyle. How does he think? Does he know how to use firearms?”

  She pushed back her hair and focused those big blue eyes on him. “He thinks he’s smart and he is.” She grabbed the lapels of his chambray shirt. “He…he blew up my car!”

  “I know, mouse. We’ll get you another one. We’ll contact your insurance company. Get that process started. Tell me more about him, the way he thinks.” Stay focused, sweetheart—don’t fall apart on me.

  Her frantic gaze darted from window to window as if she expected to see him there watching her. Was this how this son of a bitch had terrorized her before? What things had she endured alone at the mercy of this maniac? “Ah…he…he’s very mechanical, good with his hands. He’s a member of the NRA and uses guns easily.”

  He loosened his hold on her, much as he wanted to hold her tight. “Good, very good. Does he prefer rifles or revolvers?”

  “Revolvers and”—she shuddered slightly, an almost imperceptive gesture—“knives.”

  Storm’s mind went back to loving her last night. That was when he’d first noticed the pale scar over her right breast—a thin, straight scar. He drew her closer and whispered in her ear. “That scar above your breast?” She nodded and expelled a gigantic sob. She burrowed against him, as if to immerse herself into his being. He drew her closer.

  Fury like he’d never known raged through him; raged like a wild bronco charging first one side of the corral fence and then turning and charging the other. It took great restraint to stay in that chair, holding her, when he wanted to jump up and tear something apart in anger and frustration. His woman had been cut; cut and terrorized by a madman. “Sweetheart, never again. You’re with me now. He’ll never touch you again.”

  She sat up and looked at him. He sensed fear in her eyes. With his gaze locked on hers, he willed strength and courage into her. Slowly, her color returned. She began blinking again. “I don’t want him to hurt anyone else. Now do you understand? If I stay here, danger will come.”

  “And I’ll damn well put a bullet between danger’s eyes.” His gaze remained locked on hers and his voice deathly calm. “I promise you no one will ever hurt you again.”

  She placed ice-cold hands on his cheeks. “Storm, let me go.”

  “Never! I need you too much, love you too much.” He wrapped strong arms around her and drew her close. “Jackson, when are those security guys coming?”

  “They were supposed to leave Austin thirty minutes ago.”

  “How many?” He kept his hand moving up and down Rachel’s back, slowly, hoping to calm and comfort. Would she try to leave him again? How could he convince her to stay?

  “Eight. They’ll work in four teams of two, riding in Jeeps.”

  “Good. That’s good.” He kissed Rachel’s hair. “I’ve hired a security team to come and patrol the property, love. I’m doing everything I can to keep the family safe. You’re part of my family now. You do know that, don’t you?” She nodded against his neck and kissed him there. He took comfort in that small gesture.

  “Rachel, why don’t you go upstairs and play trains with Sawyer? Tell him I had ranch business I had to attend to and I’ll play with him later. I need to alert Red and the rest of the hands to what’s going on.”

  “Okay. You’ll be careful, won’t you?” She pressed a hand to his cheek. It was icy cold as if all the warmth of her body had been scared out of her. He cursed Kyle Benson for that, too.

  “Yes, most definitely.” He looked at her fear-filled eyes. “If ever a man wanted a future, it’s me.” He kissed this woman he loved, trying his best to convey assurance that he’d make everything all right. She slid off his lap and left the kitchen.

  Someone rapped on the back door. Storm rose and looked out the screen door. “Come in, Red.”

  Red stepped inside and looked around the kitchen. “Mornin’ Boss, Chief.” He nodded at both of the men. “Boss, Randy was checkin’ the fence line along Longhorn Road when he saw smoke. Someone cut the fence and drove through. Probably kids lookin’ for a place to party. Found where they built a campfire along Stoney Creek. Bad thing is whoever it was was pretty careless. Fire spread to two trees. We got the fire out. Boys are keepin’ an eye on it.”

  Storm looked at Jackson. “It’s started.”

  Jackson pressed a key on his cell. “Travis, you, Hector, Clyde and Sam head out to the Triple-S. Bring rifles, high-powered scopes, bulletproof vests and all our night vision gear. Prepare to be here for a few days. I want you here five minutes ago. Is that clear?” He shoved his phone into his shirt pocket.

  Red looked from one man to the other. “What in blue blazes is goin’ on?”

  Storm reached for a mug from the cabinet. “Grab a seat and have a cup of coffee while we fill you in. Trouble’s come and we’ve got to deal with it.” He set a mug of steaming coffee in front of his ranch foreman. In a matter of minutes, he had Red filled in on all the events.

  Red ran a hand across the back of his sun-beaten, weathered neck. “Holy hell,” he breathed. “We can’t let him get to Miz Rachel or little Sawyer.” He glanced at Storm. “Or you, for that matter.”

  The foreman had worked on the ranch since Storm and Sunny were ten years old. He was a man both their father, when alive, and now Storm trusted implicit
ly. The man may have been rough around the edges, but he was intelligent, intuitive and determined. The ranch ran smoothly because Red followed orders, but mainly because he saw all the little details were taken care of so Storm could focus on the big picture.

  Jackson, used to making himself at home in Noella’s kitchen, stood and made a fresh pot of coffee. “Storm, it would make things easier if the women and Sawyer were gone for the day. I could concentrate on the job at hand without worrying about Sunny and the boy. I’ll be busy positioning men, setting up surveillance. If I know they’re away from this mess, I can focus.”

  “I’m not letting Rachel out of my sight.” He speared his best friend an unwavering stare.

  “Then go with them. Take them shopping or something. Keep them out of harm’s way until we have a chance to make sure things are safe here. The guys can set up cameras and sniper blinds.”

  “Snipers?” Red drained his cup. “Damn, you ain’t foolin’ around, are ya, son?”

  “Snipers don’t always go for the kill shot. They can aim for a leg as well as a head. I just want him incapacitated.”

  “Bastard’s already taken a knife to Rachel. He’s beaten her, broken her wrist. He deserves whatever he gets and then some. I’d kill him in a minute.” Storm locked eyes with Jackson. “That’s why you want me out of here, isn’t it? You’re afraid I’ll do something stupid.” God help him, he would, too. Cold, hard truth slammed into him—he’d kill for Rachel.

  “I’m sworn to uphold the law, buddy. Take the women and Sawyer and give them an outing. Let them run up your charge card. I’ll call. Let you know how we’re progressing with security and such. We’ll get the slimy bastard. Mark my words.”

  “I’ll do it. I don’t like it, but I’ll do it. Feel like my place is here, doing something to help.”

  “You don’t figure keeping the women and the boy safe is a helluva help? Seems to me that’s the most important thing you can do.” Jackson always could zero in on the heart of the matter.

  Storm nodded and then turned to Red. “You and the boys make yourselves available to Jackson. Do whatever he says.”

  Red refilled his coffee mug. “Sure thing, boss. You’re taking Noella, too, aren’t you? She’s a fine woman. Would hate for anything to happen to her.”

  Storm stared at Red for a minute. He hadn’t expected that from him. Was he interested in Mama Noella? “Is there something I should know about?”

  The foreman lifted his mug and blew on it. “I wish.”

  He’d have to think about this later. For now, there were too many other things to consider. “Hope I can talk those three women into going to the mall.”

  Red barked a snort of laughter. “First time I ever heard of forcin’ women to shop.”

  Storm smiled. “Yeah, well, you’ve never tried getting my Rachel to do something she doesn’t want to do.”

  Red looked at Jackson and wiggled his eyebrows. “My Rachel. Well, now, don’t that beat all?”

  ****

  Rachel was trying to pay attention to Sawyer’s excited chatter, really she was. Only panic had set in and had its icy cold fingers coiled around her heart, twisting, slapping and tearing at it. Then for good measure, fear did the Mexican hat dance around her stomach. Kyle had torched her car, her pretty red convertible barely three months old. What would he do to Storm or this sweet child clapping with glee as the two trains passed on the metal tracks?

  Leaving would be agonizingly hard now that she and Storm had grown close, intimately close. A smile crossed her features until fear chased it away. If she left, she’d be protecting him. Kyle was a very real and dangerous menace. Still, Storm and she had declared themselves to each other, made promises, sweet, enduring promises. No, she couldn’t leave the man she’d come to love. She belonged with Storm.

  Noella was changing the sheets on Sawyer’s bed, probably trying to keep busy. Sunny told the housekeeper, in whispers, what had happened to Rachel’s car. Noella had crossed herself and then hugged Rachel.

  “Wachel, when dat twain gets at the station, stop it. Okay?”

  “Okay, Mr. Conductor.” She gave a salute and the child giggled.

  “Well, well, don’t you have a nice helper…and pretty, too.” Storm had a shoulder leaning against the frame of the doorway and appeared nonchalant. Rachel knew him well enough to see the telltale signs: the clenched jaw and the smile that didn’t soften his eyes. He pushed away from the doorway and entered the room, squatting beside Sawyer.

  “Wachel helped me. She made the twains go two diffewent ways.”

  Storm studied the track for a little. “Know what you need, partner?”

  Sawyer slid over beside Storm and then shifted into a squatting position, mirroring his uncle. “What, Unkie Storm?” What an adorable child. What a handsome man, squatting with his large hand on the child’s small back.

  “I think you need some bridges, so your train can go over houses and trees.” He made a sweeping gesture with his large, tanned hand.

  “Yeah, dat would be somefin. How do I get a bwidge?”

  “At a train store.” Storm glanced over his shoulder at Sunny sitting on the rocker. “Don’t they have a model train store in that big mall in Austin? That mall you like.”

  She stopped rocking. “Yes. Next to that clothing boutique Pilar’s friend owns.”

  “What do you say we all get in Noella’s SUV and head to that mall? Sawyer and I could buy some train stuff while you women shop. Rachel could get her hair cut like she talked about in the tub this morning.”

  “You saw Wachel take a baf?”

  For the first time, Rachel saw Storm blush. He hung his head and shook it once, obviously embarrassed by the slip.

  Sunny quickly saved the day. “Unkie Storm said shrubs. He heard Rachel talk about getting her hair cut when she was standing near the shrubs this morning.”

  “Oh. Can we go, Mommy? Please?” He ran to his mother and took her hand. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

  Storm stood. “How soon can you ladies be ready?”

  “I’m not really in the mood to go shopping.” Rachel stood, too. A maniac was closing in on her, and Storm wanted her to shop? What was going on? She stepped in front of him and ran a hand up his chambray shirt, feeling his hard muscles underneath. “What’s going on?” she whispered in hushed tones.

  He enveloped her in an embrace. “Jackson says it’ll be easier to put safety measures into place if the house is empty. Plus, he won’t have the distraction of worrying over Sunny and Sawyer, knowing they’ll be safe at the mall with me.” That made sense. “You could get your hair cut for your donation to Locks of Love. Buy something pretty for me. A nightie, perhaps.”

  “You wear nightgowns, Storm Blackhawk?” She batted her eyes at him.

  He leaned down, gently bit her lower lip and slowly smiled when her breathing hitched a beat. “Everyone be at the front door in ten minutes. You too, Noella. I might even buy you a pretty skirt to wear at the barbeque. Something to turn Red’s eye.” He winked at the housekeeper.

  Sunny and Rachel chimed in unison, “Red, the foreman?” Both ladies turned to stare at the housekeeper.

  Noella patted the bun at the back of her head. “And why not? I’ve still got some moves, but I say nothing.” She held her head high and sashayed out of the room.

  Before they left for the mall, Rachel checked her phone. She’d turned it off the night before after sending Kyle a text that she was staying at the Dew Drop Inn. She couldn’t handle his constant calls and threatening texts.

  Storm placed a hand at the small of her back. “Any missed calls or texts?”

  “Twelve missed calls and thirty-six texts.” She looked up at him. “You know this is all going to come to a terrible head.”

  “A suggestion, love. Maybe if you give Jackson your phone, he can trace it somehow. Use a GPS to find Kyle’s location.”

  She handed the phone to Storm. “If it’ll help, sure. I’ll be glad to be out of his reach.” />
  Chapter Eighteen

  It was nearing lunchtime when they reached the mall. Rachel pricked her finger to check her glucose levels. With all the worry about Kyle, she knew her reading would be off.

  “What’s a normal range? I don’t know a thing about diabetes.” Storm leaned over in the SUV, watching her quick and efficient movements.

  “Normal on an empty stomach is between eighty and one twenty. It’s been two hours since I ate, so we can expect it to be around one fifty.”

  “If it’s not?” He absently twirled a finger around a strand of her hair.

  “If it’s too low, I eat or drink something to bring it up. If it’s a little high, I exercise. If it’s really high, I give myself a dose of insulin. The amount I inject depends on how high my reading is.”

  “Sounds complicated.”

  She shrugged. “It’s a way of life. I have type-one diabetes. Have since I was nine. I’m used to the routine. When I’m extra active or under stress, I keep a closer eye on my readings.” She looked at Storm. “In life, we do what we have to.”

  Storm gave a low whistle when her reading popped up on the glucometer display. “What now?” He cast worried eyes on her.

  She rummaged in her cavernous purse, pulling out her insulin pen and an alcohol wipe in foil. “Watch and learn, cowboy.” She opened the foil packet and wiped the saturated gauze over a spot on her thigh. She inserted a needle into her insulin pen, turned the dial for the number of units she needed and pressed the needle into her leg. “Done.”

  Storm’s gaze locked on hers for a beat. Then he leaned over and kissed the injection site on her thigh.

  From the back seat came an excited statement. “Unkie Storm kissed Wachel’s boo-boo on her weg!”

  “That’s right, partner. Here’s your first lesson in being a man. A man always takes care of his woman.” Storm shifted in his seat to regard the child.

  “Is Wachel your woman?”