Her Hero in Hiding

by Rachel Lee

  “I’m fine. It’s not that strenuous. I found a can of clams, so I’m just making chowder.”

  He stepped in closer. “Smells good.” He sounded grudging.

  “It’ll smell even better in a couple of hours.” She reached for the cutting board to dump the last of the diced potatoes into the pot, but he snatched it before she could lift it and scraped the potatoes in for her.

  “Don’t forget your ribs.”

  “Thanks.” She wanted to ask if he was feeling any better but decided that would be foolhardy. He was so close now that she could have reached out to touch him—would have done so, if it were up to her, because she yearned to re-establish the link they had been building, however warily. But that was all shattered now, she supposed. And there was no telling, given what had happened earlier, how he would react to her touch. “I prefer,” she started, then had to clear her throat. “I prefer to make it with half and half, but milk will do. I’ll just add a bit of butter for richness.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be wonderful.”

  She tried a smile and was relieved when there seemed to be a slight softening in his face. Maybe he’d walked off some of his mood, although it wouldn’t help except to postpone things. But sometimes, as she had learned, even a break would do.

  “What can I do to help?” he asked.

  “Find me a pot lid. I couldn’t look in the lower cabinets, I’m afraid. And this needs to simmer for a while.”

  “You’ll need to step back a bit.”

  She did, and he bent to pull a lid out of the cabinet beside the stove. He put it on the pot. “Anything else?”

  “That’s it for now.”

  He turned the lantern, which sat on a small island, and pumped it so that it burned brightly again. Then he looked at her. “You need to get back to the sofa, Kay. You’re looking pale.”

  “How can you even tell in this light?” she asked a bit querulously, but her body was telling her the same thing. How long would it take to get her strength back? she wondered. She definitely felt shaky and suspected rubbery knees awaited right around the corner.

  Without a word, he took her elbow gently and guided her back to the couch. So where had the monster gone? Had he buried it temporarily in the snow outside? Probably. She was good at burying things sometimes, too.

  After he saw her settled, he disappeared into the kitchen, only to return about ten minutes later with fresh coffee for both of them.

  “Thanks.” She accepted hers with pleasure. She’d thought about making a pot, but in a strange kitchen, feeling as she did right now, she’d opted to stick with something for dinner. Finding the coffee and then wondering how he preferred to make it had seemed like one task too many.

  “The chowder will need to be stirred from time to time,” she told him. “Just letting you know, in case I fall asleep again.”

  “I can do that.”

  She had not the least doubt that this man could do just about anything he put his mind to. That alone was intimidating. He was obviously extremely smart, and experienced in so many things. What did she have to say for herself? Very little. She could wait tables, she could run, she could even cook decently. Beyond that, she had no accomplishments to show for twenty-six years on this planet.

  A sigh escaped her.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked at once.

  Some monster, she thought. His concern for her was overwhelming, and certainly more than she had known since her grandmother died. She decided to be blunt. “I was just thinking about how little I’ve accomplished with my life.”

  “That probably depends on how you’re measuring it.”

  A little laugh escaped her, and her ribs twinged. “Now you sound like a professor. Or maybe a shrink.”

  “Shrinks are good. Some of them, anyway. They don’t let us make excuses, they just tell us that we aren’t doing as badly as we think, and while we’re at it, maybe we need to change some things.”

  “You’ve been to one?”

  “Extensively.”

  “Doesn’t seem like he helped you much.”

  “I’m still here.”

  She almost winced at that, because of what it said about the parts of hell he’d visited in order to reach this point in his life. Suicide? It had crossed her mind a couple of times. She suspected it had crossed his even more.

  “Well, what would a shrink tell me, then?” she challenged him.

  “I don’t know you well enough to even guess. But I’m fairly certain she would tell you to stop beating yourself up over the things Kevin did.”

  “And if I managed that?”

  “That it’s time to look for new ways of dealing with this problem.”

  “What ways?” The words burst out of her. “Don’t you think I’ve tried?”

  “I’m sure you have.”

  “Then what?”

  He raised his hand, absently covering his lower face as he thought. “Shall I tell you what I can offer?”

  “Sure.” She doubted it was much, short of killing Kevin, and she’d been serious when she’d said she didn’t want him to be responsible for that.

  He dropped his hand. “If we don’t put that sucker away for life, then I know some people who can get you a new identity. Everything, top to bottom. Impenetrable. That jerk would never find you again.”

  She felt her jaw drop a little. “Really? That’s possible?”

  “It’s more than possible. People do it all the time. But the folks I know are experts who can do it all legally, and so well your new persona would be seamless.”

  For some reason she found that amazing. Yes, she knew about fake identity cards. In fact, as a waitress, she’d learned to look out for them. She knew some people changed their identities to escape a crime, but they often got caught anyway. And she didn’t believe a thing she saw in the movies about how to hide under an alias. “How is that possible?”

  “You need to know the right people in the right places. And I’m not talking about the underworld here.”

  “Fantastic,” she whispered. “But how could I pay for it? It must be expensive.”

  “It would be free. A favor. But first, let’s see if we really need to go that far. If we can get Kevin into a six-by-eight cell for life, none of that will be necessary.”

  “Maybe not.” She sighed again, turning the possibilities around in her mind. “I could really be someone else?”

  “If that’s what you need. So let’s say you could be someone else, Kay. What would you do with a truly fresh start?”

  It still boggled her mind. “I…I don’t know. I never thought about it.”

  “Well, think about it now. Because one way or another, before you leave this house, you’re going to have a new life.”

  She almost shivered when she saw the determination in his eyes. This man was capable of things she could barely imagine, and she believed all the way to her bones that he accomplished any task he set for himself.

  “I’d save up money and go to college,” she said.

  “I’d fix it so you could get financial aid. Scholarships and loans. No reason to wait. You’d have to work while you’re in school, like most students, but you wouldn’t have to save up first.”

  “That would be amazing.”

  “So what would you do with that gift? It’s not one many of us get.”

  “I know that. I’d want…I’d want to help people somehow.”

  One corner of his mouth lifted. “There’s a beautiful soul locked up inside all that fear.”

  “I don’t know about that. It’s just that…” She hesitated. “The places I’ve been, I’d want to make it easier for other people who are there, too. Kids in foster care. Battered women. I know what desperation is like.”

  He nodded. “Life hasn’t crippled you yet.”

  That comment interested her. She turned it around, thinking about it, and finally said, “Maybe not.”

  “Definitely not,” he said firmly. “You’ve been hobbled, but not
crippled. Once we take care of that bastard, the sky’s the limit for you.”

  Did he really mean that? How could he? As he said, he didn’t know her very well. But still, she liked what he seemed to see in her, something beyond a terrified woman forever on the run. Not just a rabbit in perpetual flight from a fox. She smiled a little, liking the way that made her feel. Almost like an infusion of emotional strength. “Thank you.”

  “Just calling it the way I see it.”

  Moving with care, she pulled her legs up beneath her and sat cross-legged. Once she achieved the position, it felt good, moving stress points around and giving a break to some of the more painful spots.

  But the best thing of all was that for the first time in a long time, she actually felt the stirrings of hope.

  And all because of the stone-faced, self-confessed “monster” who sat across from her. Maybe he wasn’t as crippled as he thought, either.

  Chapter 7

  The storm wound down overnight, bringing a morning that sparkled with brilliant sunlight. The power still hadn’t come back on, though, although it hadn’t been terribly missed. They’d managed just fine without it. The fire had kept the living room warm, and the propane stove in the kitchen made it possible to cook and make hot beverages. What more did you need? Kay wondered.

  She had pulled back the curtains to look out, noting that the wind had buried the driveway again, the one that deputy Micah had plowed out only yesterday. She wondered if Clint had some kind of plow, too. She couldn’t imagine trying to clear all of that by hand.

  “Get away from the window.”

  Kay jumped and turned swiftly, dropping the curtain. Clint had just returned from the back of the house, where he’d evidently gone to change into a fresh flannel shirt and jeans.

  “What? Why?”

  “Just stay away from it.”

  “What aren’t you telling me? Has something happened?”

  “Phones aren’t working.”

  Even she could tell that was misdirection. “Clint? Don’t lie to me. For God’s sake, don’t lie. Do I have a reason to be afraid of being seen?”

  He hesitated long enough to give her an answer.

  “Oh God,” she said shakily. Feeling suddenly weak, she tried to stagger to the couch. He crossed the room in a flash to steady her. When she was sitting, he squatted in front of her.

  “What do you know?” she asked on the merest breath. “What didn’t you tell me? Clint, I have to know.”

  After a moment, he nodded. “When you gave me the description of Kevin’s car yesterday, I thought I might have seen it.”

  “When? Where?”

  “Right after I found you. I was carrying you to my truck. Now, before you panic, let me tell you I’m not sure it was him. I wasn’t paying that close attention, because I was more concerned with you. Plus, the snow had started to blow pretty badly, so I didn’t have a clear view. But a car like his passed us and slowed. At the time I thought it was someone going up the road to my neighbor’s place.”

  “Oh God.” Her stomach sank like a stone. Had Kevin really come that close to tracking her down? Had she been saved only by a matter of minutes and this man? “Oh God.”

  “Kay, I can’t be sure it was him. Neither can you.”

  “But you’re worried enough that you don’t want me by the window.”

  “That’s just common sense. In case. We don’t know that he knows where you are.”

  “But he could know I’m here.”

  His reluctance was obvious when he nodded. “Don’t worry, lady. I won’t let him get to you.”

  “How are you going to prevent that?”

  His faced hardened again. “I have ways.”

  She closed her eyes, feeling the panicked wings of terror beating throughout her body. Not Kevin. Not again. Not as she’d just begun to hope.

  “Kay.” Clint touched her arm. She opened her eyes reluctantly. “I told Micah about it. They’ll be watching like hawks, too. But I’m going to take some more precautions.”

  “What kind?”

  “I’m going to make sure he can’t get into the house without waking the dead.”

  Still shaken, she watched as he kept his word. Below each window, he placed hazards that would trip anyone who tried to climb in. On the rear and side doors, she watched him set up what he called “trip wires.” If anyone opened them from the outside, a noisy shower of objects would fall.

  He gave the front windows, the ones where she would be most exposed, extra treatment; he nailed them shut. With each blow of the hammer, she winced, realizing that safety had been an illusion, that once again she was in a prison of terror.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked. “Why?”

  “Because you weren’t in danger of any kind during the storm. You needed to rest.”

  “I needed a lie?”

  “It wasn’t a lie. I can’t be sure it was him. Nor can you. I’m just taking precautions.”

  “I want a gun.”

  “I keep them locked up. For good reason. And I don’t need one to take care of this guy.”

  “But what if I do?”

  He shook his head. “Too dangerous.”

  “Dammit, Clint!”

  He just shook his head again. Then he squatted in front of her and took her shoulders. “Listen to me. Guns are dangerous. What happens if you get scared in the dark and think I’m him?”

  “I’d never mistake you for him.”

  “When you’re scared, everything looks like a threat. Do you have any training?”

  “No.”

  “Can you be absolutely sure you’d shoot? Because if you don’t, and he gets close enough, then you’ve armed him. Trust me on this one, Kate, if he’s fool enough to try to get in here, he’ll have his hands fuller than he can possibly imagine, and I don’t need a gun to make him regret it.”

  “Maybe you don’t.”

  “Okay, you want a weapon? How about a fireplace poker? Or a tire iron? You can hide it right here beside you, and if he ever gets that close, you can do enough damage with one blow to put him down until I can take him out.”

  She finally accepted his reasoning, though it didn’t make her happy. “Something he can’t pull out of my hand. He’s strong.”

  “I’ll figure it out.”

  “But he could still hit me first.”

  He shook his head, his gray eyes never wavering from hers. “Kay, I’d have to be dead to let him get that close.”

  God, what a thought. What an image he painted of himself. She couldn’t help it. Terror was driving her, and he was the only anchor she had. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him, clinging.

  At first he froze, as if he’d become the stone he pretended to be. Then, almost cautiously, he slipped his arms around her, gently, oh so gently, and just let her cling.

  “I’ll protect you,” he whispered. “I swear it.”

  But at what cost? It was a question she didn’t dare ask.

  By midmorning it was easy to see that Clint had become restless. She wished she could feel that much energy, but evidently her body still demanded rest. Finally he went to one of the windows and looked out.

  “I need to plow the drive.”

  “Do you need to go somewhere?”

  “If it becomes necessary, yes.” He turned from the window and looked at her. “You’ll be safe,” he said. “Nobody can approach this house right now because of the snow. Somehow I think it would take more guts than Kevin has to hike his way in here.”

  “Really?”

  “A man who beats up on women is a coward.”

  “Or crazy,” she said quietly.

  “Do you think he’s that crazy?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Then ride in the truck with me. It won’t take long. Just let me get the thing started so the cab is warm for you.”

  “Thank you.” She let a sigh of relief escape her. Yes, it might be beyond Kevin to hike his way through all this sn
ow, but a few years ago she would have thought it beyond him to pursue her across the country, too. Not only had he done that three times now, but he’d actually abducted her. Crazy? Yeah, he was crazy.

  He went outside and started the truck. She could hear it roar a bit at first, then listened as it came around to the front of the house. The vehicle sounded none-too-happy about the volume of snow it had to push.

  Then Clint stomped back in, shaking snow off his boots. “Let me find you something to put on your feet. And I have an extra jacket, though it’ll probably swallow you whole.”

  “That’ll just make it warm,” she said with a smile. For some reason she felt like smiling. Maybe because he cared enough about her feelings not to leave her alone. Maybe because she was actually going to get out into the sun and fresh air for a little while.

  He brought her several pairs of thick socks and knelt to pull them on her. “My feet are way too big,” he said. “If I gave you a pair of my boots, you’d trip for sure. So I’ll carry you to the truck, okay?”

  She didn’t mind the idea at all, oddly enough. She looked at the top of his dark head as he worked the socks onto her and felt a swelling appreciation for him. He could be incredibly kind and thoughtful, and he cared for her as if she were as precious as Limoges china, and as delicate. Nobody, absolutely nobody, had ever done that for her. Not even her earliest memories of her mother included this kind of care.

  After the socks came a gray nylon parka. He zipped it up, even though it bagged on her and fell almost to her knees. Then he rolled up the sleeves, no easy task, but at least her hands were free.

  Next he offered her big, thick blue mittens. She managed those by herself and then giggled at the way they flopped loosely at the ends of her fingers.

  Even Clint smiled. “I’m sure you must be in there somewhere.”

  “That’s the story, anyway.”

  At that, a chuckle escaped him. Then, without further ado, he swept her up, one arm beneath her knees, the other around her shoulders. It never ceased to amaze her that he was so strong. And where that had once frightened her, now it made her feel safe.

  Probably a dangerous way to feel, she thought. She couldn’t trust herself right now, couldn’t trust her own feelings, and he clearly wanted no part of human entanglements. The only thing this man could offer her was more pain, just a different kind of pain.