by Lori Foster
Bryan groaned long and loud and exaggerated. “Don’t tell me you’re buying into that crap now, too?”
“No. But just in case, watch your back. And if you need me, for anything…well, I owe ya one, right? So just let me know.”
Bryan considered that offer, knew it was sincere, just as he knew he couldn’t ask for better backup than Joe, and he nodded. “Appreciate that, Joe.” And just to tweak him, he added, “Give my love to Luna.”
“Hell, no.” Joe hung up, leaving Bryan with a grin. Once he got things settled for his brother, maybe he’d take Shay to Visitation for a short vacation. If Jamie met Shay, he’d know she wasn’t a threat to anyone.
Fully dressed, Shay sat on the edge of the bed to slip on her sandals. “What was that all about?”
Bryan eyed her, wondered if he should tell her and thought, Why not? He was curious to see her reaction to Visitation’s living legend. Would she be a believer? Probably. “Down in Visitation, there’s this near-silent, mysterious guy named Jamie Creed. He’s idolized by the town, at least by the town women. He claims to have some sort of extrasensory perception.”
Her eyes widened with interest. “A psychic?”
“Sort of. I don’t really know much about how it works, except that, according to the women in the area, Jamie is a romantic specter who only comes down off his mountain when he has dire warnings that usually prove to be on the mark.”
Fascinated, Shay asked, “Is he handsome?”
“How the hell would I know?” The sound of police sirens swelled outside. It wasn’t uncommon in the area. Sirens could usually be heard most of the night.
Bryan pushed off the bed and located his jeans. It was past time he returned Shay to the safe house.
“Well, what’s he look like?”
Lifting one shoulder, Bryan said, “Tall. Dark. Shaggy hair and a beard. I guess he looks like a hermit, but his eyes are dark and intelligent. Nothing vague about him, except the idiotic stuff that spews out of his mouth.” Bryan zipped up his jeans and reached for his belt.
A furious pounding on the front door made them both jump. Shay twisted around. Bryan frowned.
And then Patti’s frantic, high-pitched voice reached them. “Preacher, Preacher! Come quick.”
“Oh, shit.” Barefoot and shirtless, Bryan raced out of the room.
Shay was right behind him.
Babbling, Patti said, “He showed up and he tried to grab Amy.”
“Who?” Bryan demanded, sticking close as Patti tromped back down the stairs.
“Freddie.” Between sobs, she said, “Morganna jumped him, but he hit her and then Barb called the cops and…and they’re already here, but there are other people, too.”
Bryan ran after her, not knowing what he might find but sure that it would be bad. He’d never seen Patti in such a state before. How badly was Morganna hurt? Amy had to be horribly upset. At least Barb had thought to call the police.
Patti shot out the front door and dashed across the yards, with Bryan and Shay following. It was dark outside, yet the front of the safe house was lit up with flashing police lights and the headlights from a white truck with some sort of logo on the side.
Ignoring that for the moment, Bryan anxiously counted heads as he approached.
He could see Barb and Morganna huddled together, neither of them seriously hurt. Amy was wrapped in a blanket next to a cop, and it appeared she was crying but unharmed. They were all safe, thank God.
Towing Shay in his wake, Bryan started toward the cluster of police officers. Two cops had Freddie sprawled out on the street so they could handcuff him. Another stood over him, a hand on his nightstick. Freddie resisted, cursing up a storm and making vile threats that no one heeded.
Another man in plain clothes stood off to the side, snapping photos of the drama, while another held a microphone, as if waiting his turn. It seemed almost surreal—and too easy to be true. He couldn’t easily accept that it was over, and he hadn’t even been involved.
Bryan turned to Shay to ask her opinion—and he caught her backing away.
“Shay?”
In a weak protest, she whispered, “I…I have to go back to your place.” She shook her hand loose from his.
Confused, Bryan saw that her face had gone deathly white and her eyes enormous. Worried, he again captured her hand, halting her retreat. Her fingers were icy. “Shay, everyone’s okay, honey. They’re arresting Freddie. It’s almost over.”
He tried to draw her into his arms, but she was trembling and backstepping. She stared at him and bit her lip. “I’m sorry.”
Bryan felt his spine stiffen. “For what, exactly?”
The guy with the camera started snapping photos, blinding them both with the flash.
Automatically, Bryan shoved Shay behind him. “What the hell are you doing?”
The microphone got shoved under his nose. “Are you the preacher?”
Bryan felt bizarre, standing there in nothing more than jeans, the cool evening air swirling around him, so many eyes suddenly watching him with regret, curiosity, even eagerness. It was like playing in some cornball play, without knowing his lines. “Yeah, so?”
The reporter looked beyond him to where Shay huddled. Bryan could feel her fast, warm breaths on his nape, feel her fingers clutching his bare shoulders. Thoughts of Jamie’s predictions came back, cramping his guts, filling him with an awful foreboding.
The click of the camera sounded like a gunshot. The flash blinded him.
“Is it true that you, the protector of retired prostitutes, are having an affair with the Crown Princess?”
The Crown Princess. The absurd title reverberated through his head, making his brain throb while the photographer moved in for a better angle. Snap, snap, snap.
Bryan started to deny the accusation, but nothing emerged from his mouth.
The microphone got passed behind him. “What do you say, Ms. Sommers?”
Sommers. Slowly Bryan turned to face her. Shay Sommers—the Crown Princess. A millionaire. A social butterfly. A woman who ran numerous charities—and had no real need to stay in a shelter.
Unless it was to serve her own ends.
The reporter pushed closer. “Are the hookers your newest project, or is the preacher?”
She shook her head.
“Are you two serious about each other?”
She glanced at Bryan—and then away.
“Is this another stunt to improve your recent bad publicity, to make up for the goof that almost killed that girl?”
Bryan couldn’t move, but Shay did. She stepped back, then back again, distancing herself from him. His brain knew he’d been duped, but his heart waited for her to deny it, waited to hear her say something that would make this all a bad dream.
She shook her head—and her chin lifted. In a regal voice worthy of the title Crown Princess, she said, “I’m here because these women are my friends.”
“Right.” The reporter didn’t believe that.
Neither did Bryan.
Morganna, Barb and Patti sidled up close to watch the interrogation with awe and horror.
The reporter swept his hand behind him. “Did you dress them?”
By the moment, Shay’s expression grew colder and more remote. “They’re grown women. They dress themselves.”
“But you supplied the clothes. You’ve gotten them jobs and taught them manners. Isn’t that true?”
“Who told you that?” Shay stared directly at the reporter, as if Bryan didn’t exist. And he felt like he didn’t, like he’d just been sucked into a great void. Damn Jamie. Damn himself for his stupidity.
He should have insisted she share her secrets, he should have done his own investigation. He should have…never touched her in the first place.
But that was over and done with, and he had the here-and-now to tend to.
Never mind what lies Shay had told or what she deserved, the women weren’t a part of it. It was his job to protect them, and he’d do
just that. Bryan stepped in front of the reporter, blocking him from Shay’s view. “Get lost.”
Undaunted, the reporter asked, “Do you like the idea of Shay Sommers starting a safe house right down the street from you?”
Bryan locked his jaw. “She’s not.”
“You didn’t know?” Snap, snap. More pictures were taken. Too damn many pictures, probably showing his shock, his disgust. His hurt. “She’s already bought the property. Paid cash for it. Are you concerned that her reputation will taint your good work? Will you two be a team?”
“No.” Bryan shoved the reporter out of his way. He caught Morganna’s arm, noticed her black eye, and cursed. “Freddie?”
Morganna nodded. She looked as shaken by the events as he felt. With a weak smile, she said, “I gave him one back.”
“Good for you. Let’s go. Barb? C’mon. Patti, it’s okay now.” The flash of the camera split the dark night with a strobe effect. Still firing away with his questions, the reporter trotted behind him. Shay didn’t. She didn’t move. Bryan tried to ignore that, to ignore her. He stopped by Amy’s side. “You okay, hon?”
She nodded, but big tears were in her green eyes and her nose was red. “He tried to gr-grab me.”
Shay should be soothing her. Shay was good at that. But when Bryan glanced her way, he saw that the reporter had returned to her and was busy trying to bully her into answering his questions. She just stood there, her arms limp at her sides, her face almost expressionless. Bryan wanted to pulverize the guy for bothering her.
He couldn’t bear it and he turned away.
Turning to the officer, he asked, “You need to see the women at the station?”
“We do, but there’s no rush. We already got statements. They can take a little time to calm down.”
“I’ll bring them in, say, an hour?”
“Sure.”
Barb touched Bryan’s shoulder, and that was something she never did. “What about Shay?”
Hell, he didn’t know. “After we leave for the station, she can come in and get her things. She doesn’t need to be back after that.”
Morganna looked ready to cry, and Bryan just knew if she started, they’d all be bawling on him. “It’s over,” he said, trying for an ounce of levity in a night that felt like death. “Freddie is done harassing us. There’ll be nothing but peace from here on out.”
The women nodded, but Bryan knew they didn’t believe that any more than he did. How could he have peace when Shay had just destroyed him? Damn her.
He hustled the women inside, determined to keep them calm, wishing he’d been with them instead of screwing a woman who’d lied to them all. The last thing he saw before shutting the door to the safe house was the police car driving away with Freddie inside—and Shay facing off with the reporter. She looked so very alone.
Just as he felt.
Chapter Eleven
“Freddie denies shooting the paintball gun or making the phone calls. He says he couldn’t care less what Leigh is doing, so why would he have been following you? He says he wasn’t the one who hurt the preacher.” Amy ducked her head. “He says his only crime was trying to snatch me back.”
Shay paused in her work, swiping the back of her forearm across her brow and setting her dust rag aside. The new safe house would be ready soon enough. Right now Amy wanted to talk.
Like the other women, Amy often visited her. At least they hadn’t given up all hope on her. “Do you believe him?”
“No.”
Well, that was something, at least. Shay prayed daily that Amy would remain strong, and remain safe from the Freddies of the world.
Amy took a turn around the room, staring at her feet. Finally she said, “I like my new job.”
“That’s great. So it’s working out?”
Nodding, Amy said, “I like my new clothes, too. I can’t believe you got me so many.” She smoothed out the skirt of her dress, admiring the feel and look of the fabric. She hesitated, peeked at Shay, then asked, “Are you really so rich?”
Wrinkling her nose, Shay said, “Disgustingly rich.” She waited, but Amy didn’t react to that disclosure.
“You were born rich?”
“No. My husband had piles of money, and after he passed away, it all came to me. Phillip didn’t have any other relatives. I know he’d have taken real pleasure in how I spend it, though. He was a very wonderful man.”
“You loved him?”
Shay turned to stare out the window. She hadn’t loved him as a wife loved a husband; they were more like friends or companions. It hadn’t mattered to him, so it hadn’t mattered to her. “Yeah. I still love him. And I still miss him.”
Amy seemed to digest that before changing the subject. “People look at me differently now.”
“You’re a very pretty, smart young lady. I’m sure they see that.”
She nodded, but not really in agreement—more out of distraction. A blush brightened her face before she whispered, “There’s a guy at work…he, well, he sort of teases me. In a nice way.” She bit off a self-conscious smile, and confided, “He asked me out.”
Shay felt like the sun had just shone down on her miserable head. Despite all her current troubles, seeing Amy happy made her happy, too. “He’s handsome?”
Amy shrugged. “He has this wonderful smile…” With a sigh, she added, “But I’m not ready for that yet. He said he’d wait.”
“Smart man.” Just about every day, Amy became a happier, more carefree young lady.
At least Freddie was still in jail, and likely to stay there since he couldn’t be trusted to check in with his parole officer. He wouldn’t be able to bother Amy for a long, long time.
Taking Shay by surprise, Amy threw her arms around her. “It’s not the same at the safe house without you. Everyone is doing great—but we miss you. Patti gets sullen and Barb isn’t so bossy. The preacher…well, he doesn’t say much at all. Most of the time. Other times he seems so different.”
Shay couldn’t talk about Bryan without getting melancholy. She wished she hadn’t lied. She wished she’d taken her chances and been honest fom the beginning.
She wished she’d never fallen in love with Bryan Kelly.
But she had. And now, as always, she’d have to deal with her actions.
“I can’t come back.” No matter how badly she wanted to. Bryan had walked away from her without even asking for an explanation. All the time she’d spent with him, when she’d thought they were growing closer, hadn’t mattered at all once he’d learned the truth.
Most men would have jumped at the chance to be with her because she was so filthy rich. But Bryan detested her for just that reason. Well, she wouldn’t burn the money. Either he wanted her or he didn’t.
He didn’t—and she’d deal with it. Somehow.
“No, ’course you can’t.” Amy shrugged. “I mean, you’re rich and all that.”
Shay said, “Money has nothing to do with it,” when in truth, she knew money had a lot to do with it. She could buy anything she wanted, including a man.
Just not the man she wanted.
Shay caught Amy’s hands and hoped she’d believe her. “I had more fun staying with all of you than I have in years.”
Dawn walked back in. She had just carried another load of garbage out to the curb. “The kitchen is now completely bare. I thought I’d lend a hand in here.”
Amy glanced down at her pretty yellow dress with regret. “I wish I could help….”
“You’re dressed way too nice for that,” Dawn told her. “And if you don’t leave now, you’ll miss the bus.”
“Then I better go. I don’t want to be late for work.” She backed toward the door. “I have tomorrow off, so I’ll stop by then. I’m good at cleaning. Maybe I’ll bring Morganna with me. I think she goes into the restaurant late.”
“We’ll order in a pizza,” Shay promised. “It’ll be fun.” But after Amy left, Shay leaned against the wall and fought off tears. She missed them a
ll.
Dawn smacked her in the butt with a broom. “Stop moping about how things turned out. Or else make up your mind to change them.”
Shay managed a smile that almost hurt. It had been two weeks. Fourteen days without Bryan touching her, smiling at her. She saw him occasionally, but it wasn’t the same. Either he looked through her, avoided her, or stared at her with pity.
She couldn’t understand it. He almost seemed like two men sometimes. And neither of those two men wanted to be with her. “I’m not moping,” she lied. “And there’s no way I can change it.”
“You can change anything,” Dawn told her. “You sure as hell changed me. And Leigh is happier than I ever thought she’d be.”
With a snort, Shay said, “You’re both wonderful people who remained wonderful people. All I did was lend a small helping hand.”
“Then look at Amy. That girl defined sadness not more than a month ago, but she just walked out of here with a big, honest smile. Face it, Shay. You changed all of us. And I happen to believe you can change anything or anyone, including a stubborn preacher.”
Shay hugged her best friend. “Thank you, but this time I really blew it.”
“Baloney. You only feel that way because you’re in love. Your heart’s keeping your brain from seeing things clearly. If you looked at this situation the way you look at everything else in life, you’d bulldoze your way through it like that.” Dawn snapped her fingers.
Shay had to laugh. “Right now, I can’t even bulldoze my way through this mess.” The house she’d bought was three blocks down from Bryan’s safe house. It was plenty big enough to house a dozen women, and once they finished cleaning it and added some fresh paint and carpet, it would look nice. Today she and Dawn were hauling out the biggest piles of junk. With the kitchen finished, Dawn was ready to help her finish tackling one of the downstairs bedrooms.
Dawn looked at Shay, then shook her head. “Look at you. You’re exhausted. You should have hired someone to do this.”
“I needed something to do. Something physical.” Some way to occupy her mind so she could fight off the need to cry.
She shooed Dawn with a hand. “But you go on. You don’t have to babysit me.”