Chapter 15
“Want to talk about it?” Emma asked Gunnar quietly as they walked down the sidewalk in the heart of the shopping district of Eden Falls the next morning.
He frowned at his sister. “About what?”
Emma lifted a shoulder. “Whatever’s got you in a such bad mood today.”
Gunnar clenched his teeth and shot Emma a warning glare. “I’m fine.”
The last thing he wanted to do was confess to his nosy sister that he’d found the love of his life, but she wanted nothing to do with him because his head was so screwed up since coming home from Afghanistan.
“Something’s wrong,” Emma persisted. “Yesterday you were in such a good mood at dinner. You seemed so happy with Violet, and I’d have sworn you two were an item. Then today—”
“Drop it,” he grumbled. He glanced ahead of them where Piper gabbed animatedly with Violet as they strolled down the crowded sidewalk. Violet used the crutches Derek had given her to prevent overtaxing her healing leg, but even with the slow pace they were walking, she looked tired.
That morning, Violet had tried to rehash things, begging him to understand why she had to make the choice she had... all while he loaded her suitcases into the ranch’s SUV to move her back into town. He understood all he had to. She was leaving. He’d told her he loved her, and she’d rejected him. What else was there to discuss?
Fresh pain raked through his chest.
“Did you two have a fight?” Emma asked.
He squeezed the handles of the bags he carried for Piper and Violet and shot his sister another silencing look. “I said drop it.”
Emma scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so stubborn, Gunnar! If you care about each other, you can figure something out to make it work. Caleb and I—”
“Emma!” Gunnar stopped walking and took a calming breath, rolling his shoulders to release the mounting tension.
Emma turned when she realized he was no longer beside her and sent him a puzzled look. “All right. Forget I asked. But it’s not healthy to keep stuff bottled up. If you don’t want to talk to me, talk to Tate or Derek maybe or—”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he grated through clenched teeth. “Talking about it just keeps it fresh and raw and festering! Why should I keep reliving it? Why can’t you people understand that I just want to forget about it!”
Emma’s eyes widened. “Whoa. We’re not talking about Violet and you having a spat anymore. Are we?”
He growled and scrubbed a hand over his face. Where had that come from?
His sister tipped her head but wisely didn’t push for an explanation of his outburst. “Why did you come today if you’re in such a bad mood?”
He hoisted the bags and gave her a sarcastic grin. “Someone had to lug Piper’s bags around.” He lowered his arms and huffed out a breath. He knew he was being an ass, and Emma didn’t deserve his churlishness. “Sorry. I don’t mean to vent on you.”
Cutting a glance down the street, he watched Piper and Violet take a seat at an outdoor table of the café. His chest tightened with regret and loss. “I made a commitment to help protect Violet, and I keep my word. I want to make sure you all don’t run into any trouble today from aggressive fans, or paparazzi or...worse.”
Not wanting to attract attention in town while they shopped, Violet had worn jeans, an Eden Falls High School sweatshirt of Piper’s, no makeup and a baseball cap pulled low over her face. It wasn’t much in the way of disguises, but so far no one seemed to have recognized her.
“Okay. I’ll back off. But could you try not scowling so much? You’re being a real downer.”
“I just...” He bit out a curse and shook his head. “I’ve got a lot of crap to work out, and Violet’s leaving brought home to me how hard...how alone...”
Emma laid a hand on his arm. “You’re not alone, Gun. You’ve got your family. You’ll always have us, and we love you.” She tugged a crooked grin. “Even when you’re a grumpy butthead.”
He pressed his mouth in a taut line. “I guess I earned that one.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Emma hitched her head toward the café tables. “Come on. Looks like we’re taking a break. You can buy me a mocha latte to make up for snapping at me.”
He followed Emma down the sidewalk and piled Piper’s purchases in a chair next to the one she’d claimed at the café.
“You don’t mind if we grab a snack, do you?” Piper asked Emma as she and Gunnar pulled chairs up to the table. “Violet’s leg was hurting, and she wanted to rest a bit before hitting the rest of the shops.”
Gunnar sent Violet a hooded glance. They’d barely spoken three words to each other since meeting up with his chatty sisters. The hollow look around her eyes told him she’d slept as poorly last night as he had, but she’d been determined to keep her promise of shopping with Emma and Piper. Later in the morning, they were to meet up with Rani and the twins, and Violet would head back to the B and B that the movie crew was staying at during filming. And he’d likely not see her or the boys again.
I can’t have you in my life...
Her feelings couldn’t be any plainer than that. He glanced away and feigned interest in the pigeons pecking crumbs near another table, trying hard not to let his sisters or Violet know he was dying inside.
For several minutes, while they all sipped coffee or hot cocoa, Gunnar listened halfheartedly to the ladies chatter about what they were getting Tate, Sawyer or the twins for Christmas. He let his thoughts drift, dreading the coming weeks, the silence that would fill his cabin without Violet and the twins there.
“Gunnar? Hey, Gunnar, did you hear me?” Piper asked.
“What?”
“I asked what you wanted for Christmas.” Piper narrowed her eyes and shifted her gaze to look for what had held his attention down the sidewalk. “You okay? You’re not going to freak out on us like you did last time we were here, are you?”
Emma frowned. “Freaked out how?”
He turned to Emma. “Never mind.” Then to Piper. “No, I’m not going to freak out.” Facing Violet, he met the worried expression in her eyes and gritted his teeth. He didn’t want her pity. “And I don’t want anything for Christmas—nothing that can be bought anyway.”
Piper forced a cough while saying, “Scrooge.”
“I can’t really buy anything for Caleb, either. The Amish don’t use most commercial products or exchange store-bought gifts,” Emma said, and Gunnar sipped his coffee, tuning the conversation out as best he could.
“Did you end up buying those driving gloves for Derek?” Violet asked Emma.
“No, but I’m really thinking I should have.”
“They were nice gloves,” Piper said, “and Mr. Perfect is so hard to buy for. You might as well get the gloves.”
“Hmm,” Emma said, flattening her hands on the tabletop. “You’re right. I think I’ll go back and get them.” She gathered up the table’s empty cups to throw away and scooted her chair back. “You all go on without me. I’ll catch up.”
“Want to check out the shop next door where the Amish and other local craftsmen sell homemade gifts?” Piper asked Violet. “Gunnar bought the greatest quilt there this summer.”
The quilt Violet had worn wrapped around her while they sat on his porch this past week. Gunnar swallowed the grief that rose in him.
“Sure,” Violet said, “but we’ve only got another hour before we’re supposed to meet Rani with the boys.”
Gunnar’s gut pitched. An hour...he only had an hour left to spend with Violet. And he was shopping with his sisters. Oh, whee, he thought glumly.
* * *
Violet hobbled down the aisle of the gift shop where beautiful Amish-made crafts and the work of other local artisans were sold. She paused, resting her weight on the crutches, as she examined a beaded necklace. In her peripheral vision, she caught a glimpse of Gunnar, shoulders hunched, hands in his pockets, watching her from the next aisle. His brooding silence today spoke for
his deep hurt, and she hated that she’d put him in this dark mood.
But she had to protect herself and her boys. Didn’t she? Maybe cutting ties with Gunnar was the only thing that would force him to confront the truth about his PTSD and do something to free himself from the ghosts that haunted him. Or maybe she’d only sent him into a deeper depression that would eventually overwhelm him.
A sharp-edged ache constricted her chest, and she dropped the necklace back on the display. She really wasn’t in a mood to Christmas shop, regardless of the promise she’d made Piper. Her leg throbbed, and after tossing and turning most of the night, she was drop-dead tired.
Spying a bench at the back of the store, she headed toward the seat, prepared to wait patiently for Piper. As she limped down the aisle, she passed a magazine rack where a pair of giggling teenage girls flipped through a gossip rag. The photo on the front page stopped her.
Despite Tate and Emma’s precautions to guard her privacy, some enterprising photographer had captured an image of Derek’s nurse wheeling Violet from the medical clinic two weeks ago. Injury sidelines Chastain, the headline read.
Sighing her frustration with the paparazzi, Violet tugged the bill of her cap lower and continued to the back of the store. She kept her chin tucked to her chest, her gaze low as she passed a woman and her husband perusing a display of blown glass, then settled on the bench.
Piper saw her and took a seat beside her. “You okay?”
“Yeah, fine. Just resting a bit until Emma catches up with us. Take your time.” She offered the girl an encouraging smile. “There’s a lot of great stuff in here.”
“Yeah,” Piper agreed as her eyes moved to a display beside them and widened. “Like those.” She rose from the bench to explore the table full of handmade birdhouses. “Aren’t these pretty?”
Violet glanced up long enough to see the colorful houses Piper was admiring. “Very nice.”
Behind the table, a man wearing a flannel shirt like a jacket over a white undershirt was painting designs on a birdhouse similar to the ones for sale. When he turned to Piper, Violet ducked her head again, keeping her face largely hidden by the bill of her cap. She followed the exchange between Piper and the craftsman with her gaze fixed on the floor.
“Can I help you?”
“Yeah, maybe. I really like these birdhouses. I’m thinking one of them would make a great present for my sister. She’s got an Amish boyfriend and is gonna convert and stuff, so giving her an MP3 player or coffeemaker for Christmas is kinda impractical.”
Violet noted that Piper was wearing mismatched socks and grinned. She’d heard Rani mention this was a popular trend with teenagers.
“Well, the ones at this end are less ornate, so they’re more in keeping with Amish tradition.” The man shuffled to the end of the table closest to Violet, and she shifted her gaze to his paint-splattered work boots. A tingle nipped Violet at the base of her neck. Work boots...
“How much are they?” Piper asked.
“Usually twenty dollars, but for you, pretty lady, half price.”
Violet narrowed her eyes on the boots. Why did they cause the flutter of unease to stir in her gut?
Piper’s laugh had a coquettish overtone. “Really? That’s so nice!”
“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Something in the craftsman’s tone conjured memories of too many lascivious casting directors she’d known, and Violet shoved aside thoughts of work boots to concentrate on the exchange.
“I’ll take that one. Emma will like the flowers on it.”
“Good choice. So do you have an Amish boyfriend like your sister?”
None of your business, cretin, Violet thought, growing more uncomfortable with the man’s oily tone. Something about the man’s voice grated along her nerves and made her squirm.
“Gosh, no. I don’t have any boyfriend,” Piper said.
“Really? Pretty girl like you?”
Violet gritted her teeth and cast a covert glance to the last place she’d seen Gunnar. If Piper’s brother didn’t come intervene in this increasingly inappropriate conversation between Piper and a man twice her age soon, Violet was prepared to step in herself. Gunnar was at the newsstand now, studying the picture of her leaving the clinic with a frown denting his brow.
As if feeling her stare, Gunnar glanced her way, and Violet held eye contact with him while hitching her head toward Piper.
He frowned in query, then shrugged and turned to put the gossip rag back on the newsstand.
The teenagers who had been giggling by the news rack earlier walked past Violet, and she dropped her chin to her chest again, shifting her attention back to Piper’s and the craftsman’s shoes.
“My brother teases me about being tall for a girl,” Piper said.
“I like tall girls,” the sleezoid craftsman said.
Violet had heard enough. Forsaking the crutches, she struggled to her feet and stepped closer to the table of birdhouses. “Back off, buddy. She’s a minor, and you’re old enough to—”
The end of her tirade lodged in her throat when the man faced her. In the space of seconds, his expression shifted from irritation to startled recognition. A heartbeat later, his face registered in Violet’s memory.
She gasped and staggered back a step. Her brain clicked as the pieces fell into place—paint-splattered work boots, his voice, the police sketch...
“Y-you’re...” she rasped but got no further.
As the man’s expression hardened, he plowed his way around the table of birdhouses, knocking past Piper, and bolted for the front door.
Violet ignored the pain in her leg and, with a limping jog, pursued the man up an aisle of jewelry. “No! Gunnar, that’s him! The kidnapper! Stop him!”
* * *
Gunnar jerked his head up. His gaze found Violet first, then the man fleeing to the front door. Sprinting to the end of the aisle, Gunnar stepped between the man and his escape route. He blocked the fleeing man with a classic football stance and a shoulder to the guy’s ribs.
The force of Gunnar’s tackle sent the man staggering back several steps and crashing into a display of polished rocks.
“Charlie! What’s going on?” the woman behind the register asked, her voice nervous.
The man—Charlie, the woman had called him—kept his focus on Gunnar. “Outta my way, man.”
“No.” Gunnar sized the guy up. He could take him. Easily. The guy was big, but Gunnar had three inches and thirty pounds of muscle on him. He edged closer to Charlie, ready to engage him if needed. But some backup would be nice.
Charlie’s gaze darted around the store, the frantic look of a trapped animal in his eyes. “I said move!”
What was taking Emma so long to buy those damn gloves? Without taking his eyes off Charlie, Gunnar shouted to the woman, “Call the police!”
The man reached behind him under his flannel shirt and drew a gun he’d had tucked at the small of his back. “No police! No phones!” He made a quick swipe of his arm around the room. “I want every cell phone brought up here. Now!” When the customers only gaped at him in shock, Charlie fired the gun once into the ceiling. “Now!”
The teenage girls screamed and scampered to drop their phones at his feet.
Gunnar figured his best move, unarmed as he was, was to keep the gunman as calm as possible until Emma and her service weapon arrived. Appease the guy, until he lowers his guard and you can make your move.
“Okay,” Gunnar said, raising his hands, then pulled his phone from the clip at his belt and slid it across the floor. “Do what he asked, Piper.”
Her face pale with fear, Piper followed suit then scuttled close to Gunnar. The cashier glared at Charlie, then tossed her phone next to the others. The older couple who had been milling around the store used the moment of distraction to dart out the front door. Charlie saw the pair hustle out and grew agitated. “Damn it, no one leaves unless I do!”
Violet edged toward the front of the store, her hands up to show they wer
e empty. “There’s no need to hurt anyone. Please, just put the gun down.”
“Shut up!” Charlie whirled, aiming the weapon at Violet’s chest.
Ice streaked through Gunnar’s veins, and a cold sweat popped out on his lip. The image of broken, bleeding bodies scattered around the Afghan marketplace flashed in his mind’s eye. He shook his head once and blinked hard to clear his head. Keep it together. Violet and Piper need you.
“This is your fault!” Charlie shouted at Violet.
Anxiety knotting his gut, Gunnar leaned toward Piper. “Get Violet, and move behind something solid. Don’t come out until I tell you.”
Gunnar’s whisper dragged Charlie’s attention back to him. “What are you doing?”
“Just telling her to take cover. I don’t want her hurt...and neither do you.” Gunnar eased forward, his tone calm, his hands up. “Why don’t you hand me the gun?”
Charlie laughed bitterly. “Like hell. Why don’t you step aside and let me out of here before I put a bullet in your brain?”
Violet gasped. “Gunnar, please. Don’t push him...”
“You should listen to the lady.” Charlie closed in on Gunnar, the weapon in his hand shaking. Gunnar knew a green, jumpy soldier was a trigger-happy soldier. An animal was most dangerous when cornered. But he’d be damned if he’d let this man who’d attacked Violet, who’d kidnapped Amish girls for a sex ring, get past him and go free.
Charlie made a move toward the door, and Gunnar leaped, swinging an arm with an upward arc to knock the man’s gun hand up, then tackled him.
“Gunnar!” Piper cried.
His momentum knocked Charlie to the floor, and Gunnar grappled with his opponent for control of the gun. In the melee of wrenched arms and flying fists, the weapon discharged. A blown glass vase over their heads shattered.
Using his superior strength and size, Gunnar gained the upper hand and slammed the man’s gun hand to the floor until the weapon skittered away. Seizing his chance, Gunnar released Charlie and pounced on the gun. He snatched the weapon up and spun back to face the other man, aiming for Charlie’s heart.
But Charlie wasn’t ready to concede defeat. He staggered to his feet, panting and snarling at Gunnar. “You won’t shoot me. You don’t have the guts.”
Colton's Ranch Refuge Page 18