His old man was a perfect example. Not that his old man was stupid. According to GrammaU, he’d been a hell of a mechanic in his day. Even when he was a young man, newly married and already hitting the bottle, he’d been the best in town.
But as far as intelligence went…well, that was another story. An intelligent man wouldn’t have let a slut for a wife bring him down so low in the dirt he’d never lifted himself again. Any man who let a woman mean more to him than his own self-respect didn’t deserve respect from anyone, least of all from his children.
Beck massaged his forehead, pressed the pads of his fingers hard against his brow, took in a deep breath, and let it out with a groan. He had more important things to worry about now than his old man. Discovering whether someone was out to terrorize Alex, and if so, who the hell it was, topped his list of tasks.
Of course, Ned had immediately come to mind. But how would he have known Alex would be at this cabin? Still, the fact he hadn’t located Ned in days put his friend as the only suspect on the list.
Both times he’d been to Ned’s place, the house was locked up tight. Both cars were gone, and his wife was nowhere around. Ned hadn’t answered his cell phone, either. Stupid son of a bitch would wind up beaten to the ground like old Harry St. Romaine if he didn’t shake himself loose from the bitch he was married to.
Beck stretched his legs and covered his mouth with the back of his hand to silence the deep yawn that crept up. Christ, he was sleepy. He looked at his watch. One o’clock. His lack of sleep from the night before had finally caught up with him. He walked to the kitchen and turned off the lights, decided he’d give himself thirty minutes more, and then—and then, what? He didn’t want to go too far away from Alex. But could he trust himself to lie beside her as she’d asked? The conflict made him sick to his stomach.
Still, he couldn’t sit here in this blasted chair all night. Maybe if he stayed on his half of the bed, on top the quilt, and sat upright instead of lying down, he’d remain awake and keep his distance from her. But could he? He ran his hand roughly through his hair. Aw shit, how did he get himself into this mess?
Again, Beck yawned deeply, hauled himself out of the chair, went to the nearest empty bedroom, stripped the quilt from the bed, and walked into the bedroom where Alex slept. He eased himself down on the bed, propped his back against the wooden headboard, and spread the quilt over himself.
Alex sighed softly in her sleep and mumbled a few unintelligible words then tossed an arm across his thigh.
Without even thinking, he covered her hand with his. Her hand felt so small beneath the broad span of his palm.
After another sigh, she retrieved her hand and turned on her side, facing away.
He smiled to himself. Just his luck. The first time he planned to spend the night in a woman’s bed and she’d not only gone sound asleep but turned her back. He chuckled at the irony of the situation. Feeling more relaxed than he’d been in days, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth of the woman next to him.
Beck had just dozed off when something snapped him awake. Every nerve in his body jerked to full attention. He held his breath and waited, his internal radar ready to zero in on the slightest sound. There it was again. A scraping sound. He leaned over and covered Alex’s mouth lightly with his hand, put his other hand just as lightly on her shoulder, and gave it a gentle shake.
She woke quickly, and with a nod told him she understood his silent message. She sat up, tilting her body toward him.
With an arm around her shoulder, he pulled her close, and put his mouth against her ear. “Stay here and keep quiet,” he whispered, the lower half of his body already angled to leave the bed.
She grasped his arm, pulled him back before his feet touched the floor, and whispered, “Do you have a gun?”
He shook his head.
With a stiff finger, she stabbed the darkness in front of him, gesturing toward the side of the room.
He remembered seeing her luggage there and got her message instantly. She had a gun. He shook his head, but immediately, he thought better of it and slipped down to his knees on the floor. Could he afford to take the chance the intruder was Ned or one of his drunken buddies? Suppose it wasn’t? Suppose someone really was out to harm Alex? With only her car out front, the appearance was that she was alone.
Before he had time to decide whether or not to get the gun, Alex was on the floor beside him, moving toward the luggage. He made a lightning decision to forget the gun. Too much time was needed to get it out of the luggage and ready to fire. He lowered himself to a crouching position and moved swiftly to the door.
He stopped in the hall before he made another move to make a final assessment of the noise’s direction. Then, flattening himself against the wall, he turned the knob on the bedroom door where earlier he’d found the quilt. Fortunately, the door opened silently. He slid his hand along the wall next to the door frame and felt for the light switch. When he found the switch, he flipped it and quickly flattened his back against the outside wall again. No sense taking unnecessary chances. The instant the room flooded with light, retreating footsteps sounded on the wood porch outside.
Swearing under his breath, he ran toward the kitchen, slid back the latch on the door, and flung it open. He hit the ground running, keeping his ears tuned to the footsteps of the fleeing prowler. Fifty or so feet into the thick brush, he stopped, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t have a flashlight, and even with the moonlight, seeing where he was headed was impossible.
Instead, he cupped his hands around his mouth. “You stupid son of a bitch, the next time I see you, I’m whipping your ass until you beg for mercy.” Pounding a fist into the palm of his hand, he made his way back toward the house. At the bottom of the steps, he leaned over at the waist, gripped his knees with his hands, and struggled to catch his breath.
Looking up, he spotted Alex in the doorway. “Get back inside.” He ran up the steps, covered the short distance of the porch, and pushed her inside with one hand, while the other hand closed the door behind them.
Wide-eyed, she stared. “You weren’t afraid at all, were you? That’s why you wouldn’t take the gun. You think that was your friend who’s still frightening me, don’t you?” She started trembling.
As he steered her down the hall and back into the bedroom, he felt no resistance.
“Don’t you?” She sat on the bed.
He sat next to her. He couldn’t lie. She had a right to know. Besides, as crazy as Ned could be sometimes, Beck would much rather Ned be the intruder than an unknown stalker.
She narrowed her gaze. “Don’t you?”
Beck shrugged. “I’m not sure. But I haven’t found him since the incident with the tires.” Both irritation and confusion warred inside him. “I can’t imagine him going off the deep end like this for something that isn’t your fault.”
“Then why do you think the prowler’s him?”
“It’s a long story, and you’re upset and need more sleep. Let it ride for the rest of the night, okay?” He turned back the quilt. “I just want you to know that no matter how much he acts like an ass, I’d stake my life he wouldn’t harm a hair on your head.” Christ, he hoped what he was talking about was true, because if it wasn’t….
Alex sighed and lay back against the pillow.
He pulled up the quilt around her. “I’m making another check of the cabin then I’ll come back and stay next to you like I promised.” After he was satisfied their security hadn’t been compromised, he went back into the bedroom and crawled onto his side of the bed. He wasn’t risking closing his eyes again. He considered making a pot of coffee but decided to tough it out on adrenaline instead.
After an hour passed with no other interruptions to put him on guard, he smiled. In bed with a woman he desired more than any he could ever remember, his loins on fire, an erection so painful he was sick to his stomach, and he couldn’t touch her because he’d vowed to keep her safe not only from strangers but from hims
elf, as well. A low chuckle slipped out. Becker St. Romaine the stud had been put out to pasture, and he had only himself to blame.
Ah, but all wasn’t lost. He’d given himself a month to make it with her. He hadn’t anticipated this recent complication, and it had thrown him for a temporary loop. But, he still wasn’t out of the game.
Again, he cursed Ned under his breath. When the sleeping figure next to him snuggled closer, he smiled, remembering how she’d given herself up to that last kiss they’d shared. The bed shifted again, and one of Alex’s legs pressed against his. Even with her under the covers and him on top of them, the contact was electrifying.
She rolled closer.
As if finding his crotch was something she had done a thousand times before, she cupped him. Hell. He bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. He sucked in his breath and held it, not wanting to drown out the sound of her breathing. This time, he wanted to be sure–damn sure–that she wasn’t playing games. Her breathing was slow and measured. No doubt about it, she was asleep.
Gently, he lifted her hand and laid it across her breast. He waited until the effect of her unexpected touch eased his hard-on almost to its normal state before he rose from the bed and quietly strode out to the front porch just as the sun rose.
****
“I don’t see the annoying little gnat.” Beck scanned the site Friday morning. He pulled the car alongside his truck and cut the engine.
Alex knew he referred to Kent. As she took the keys Beck held out, she did her own survey of the area. “He’s probably still not feeling well. The flu bug bit him pretty bad.”
Beck clapped a palm over his heart and fluttered his eyelashes. “I am so sorry for the lad. I do hope he recovers quickly.”
They both burst out laughing. Relieving some of the tension that hung over them like a dark cloud felt good. They spoke very little since she woke that morning to the smell of coffee and the sound of Beck slamming things around in the kitchen.
He’d handed her a mug of coffee and apologized, because he found no breakfast food in the cabin or time for them to stop and eat on their way out.
Neither of which was his fault, as she’d dutifully pointed out. She’d been glad to get out of the cabin. The garbage bag by the front door, with the two wine bottles hiding inside, brought back the embarrassment and awkwardness of the night before.
The only part of the night of which she had any clear recollection was being awakened. Chills crawled up her spine. Was a crazy person after her? She waited next to her car while Beck climbed in his truck and started the engine. “Does it still sound bad?” she asked, as he gave the engine some gas.
Beck looked up quickly. “What? Oh, the noise.” He tilted his head toward the hood of the truck. A grin spread across his face.
The immediate realization of what he had done brought quick warmth to her cheeks. “Was there ever any noise in the truck?” Seeing him widen the grin and tip an imaginary hat, she was certain he had manufactured the car problem.
He revved the engine. “Got to see a man about some business. I’ll be back this afternoon around three,” he called over his shoulder as he took off.
She stood in the wake of the truck’s dust before she could think of a reason he needn’t come back. Who was she kidding? Even if she could think of ten reasons why he shouldn’t return, she wouldn’t tell him.
Besides, she really was frightened, and she had no intention of spending another night alone in that cabin. She’d planned to go back to the motel from the week before until Beck insisted on staying with her last night. That motel was exactly where she’d be tonight if he should decide not to stay.
But she had to stop worrying about tonight and get on with the day’s plans. A lot of work remained. She reached in her backpack and took out the cell phone. Once on the ride over this morning, she’d called Evelyn, but she’d received no answer.
She felt terrible about falling asleep last night without calling her friend to let her know the good news. She absolved herself because she was certain Evelyn would understand her emotional state. Alex tried her friend’s number once more as she made her way to join the students getting out of their automobiles.
Eric French, Evelyn’s husband, answered the phone.
Her grip on the phone tightened. Evelyn French, her dear friend and mentor, was dead.
****
Beck pulled up at four o’clock Friday afternoon, and Alex’s lone sedan and the security guard’s car were the only vehicles at the dig. He braked the truck and jumped out. Ever since the incident with the packing material, a security firm patrolled the site from six in the evening until six the following morning. “Where the hell is everyone?” Beck asked the watchman who made no move to leave his vehicle when Beck approached.
“Closed up early,” the guard answered. “Something about someone dying.”
Shit. The individual must be someone important to make Alex end work this early. Jesus, he hoped the dead person wasn’t someone in her family. “Who died?”
“Don’t know. All I know is I got a call to report three hours early. When I got here, everyone was gone, except the lady doctor and a young man. They pulled out just a few minutes ago.”
Beck hitched his head toward Alex’s car. “Do you know why they left it?”
“Wouldn’t start.”
Stiffening his shoulders, Beck went over to Alex’s car and tried the door. Locked.
“She left the key with me,” the guard called. “Said she would call someone to come and tow it.”
“Which way did they go?”
The guard pointed north.
Beck clenched his fists. They were headed to the cabin. The young man was no doubt the shit-head student, probably recovered from whatever ailment had rightfully attacked him. Beck jumped in the truck and drove in the direction of the cabin. Within seconds, he was near the speed limit. If the guard’s assessment of time was accurate, Beck figured he should be eating dust from the weasel’s tires in a few minutes. He drove the familiar highway, berating himself for spending more than an hour looking for Ned in every watering hole within fifty miles. If he’d come directly to the site from the meeting, he would have been here before Alex left.
Been here to take her wherever she needed to go himself, instead of leaving that task to the asshole. The asshole who was probably already gloating, because he was racking up points with his teacher. Regardless of what Alex had told him, he’d been around creeps too long not to spot a lecher when he saw one. He’d been accused more than once of being one himself, although, as he’d quite candidly told Alex, he’d never had to force a woman to do anything against her will.
As he neared the fork in the highway leading to his old man’s place, he considered going to the cabin to see firsthand if he was sober enough to do a favor for the son who made it possible for his sorry ass to get drunk every damn day. But time was something he couldn’t spare right now.
Instead, he unhooked the cell phone from his waist clip and punched in his old man’s number. His conscience pinched. GrammU hated when he called his father the old man. She told him he should have more respect for his daddy. But hell, what was there to respect? Not like he’d ever tried to beat the bottle. Not like Alex.
The difference in education and upbringing was probably what separated his old man from Alex. She had class. He could tell just by looking at Alex, even before he got a look at the picture of her standing with her parents before a modern-day castle, that she had breeding. And money…probably lots of it.
Wonder of wonders, the old man answered the phone, and he wasn’t tripping on his tongue. Beck grilled him to be sure he was sober enough to drive and lucid enough to follow directions. The one thing no one could take away from the old man, sober or drunk, was him being the best damn mechanic around. On top of that, he was as familiar with the area as he was with the back of his hand. He promised Beck on a stack of bibles he’d get to the car, have a look at it, and if the repair was in his power
, he’d have it ready to run in no time at all.
Beck negotiated a sharp turn to avoid hitting a stray dog in the road. An exaggerated clearing of the throat on the other end of the line ended the silence. He had almost forgotten he and the old man were still connected.
“You coming by later today, son?”
“Probably not today.” Beck’s tone was gentler than usual. “But soon,” he added, then opted for an amiable reminder. “You’d better get going, Pop. Don’t let me down.” How many years had passed since he’d called the old man such an affectionate term? “The security guard has the key,” he added. After reminding his father to tell the guard he was a relative of the professor, Beck gave the truck more gas. He hoped the old man reached the site before the towing service arrived.
Instinct made him check the speedometer. The needle moved steadily to ninety. He eased up on the accelerator until the needle dropped to eighty. Still too fast, but highway patrol rarely drove this usually deserted stretch of highway.
Time hadn’t moved fast enough when he spotted the familiar landmark of his turn. A recent lightning strike reduced the once-sturdy pine to a stump that resembled a gnarled elf with severed limbs. He took the turn on two wheels and cursed violently when the truck fishtailed. Quickly, he brought the truck back to the center of the road. Reluctantly, he let up on the gas and forced himself to be content with a speed much slower, but still too dangerous for such a narrow, rutted road. He’d be hard pressed to avoid an accident if another car approached from the opposite direction.
Fortunately, before he had time for further debate of his options, he caught a glimpse of the cabin’s roof. No sooner had he reached the road that turned sharply toward the cabin than his archenemy’s car came into view.
Only the driver’s seat was occupied. Alex was alone in the cabin. Beck exhaled a mighty breath of stored-up air. He needed to talk without fear of interruption from the asshole in the car. He braked, jumped out of the truck, hopped up to the third step, and then onto the porch. When he reached the unlocked door, he barged inside.
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