“For a change,” Grady muttered.
“Aw, Dad.”
“Aw, Cody.”
Laughing, Cody headed for the kitchen, and Rachel dashed back to her car and retrieved her medical bag.
Grady eyed it as if it were a snake. “What’s that for?”
“It’s for you. Go sit down before you fall down. Do you need help?”
Slowly he turned and limped back to the living room as Rachel followed. He was hugging one arm to his chest as though his ribs hurt.
“You’re too late,” he said. “I’ve already been doctored up one side and down the other.”
“At least you’ve got that knee braced. Now, while Cody’s out of the room, what happened?”
“Wait,” he said.
It must have been a parent’s sixth sense. An instant later Cody dashed into the room.
“It’s really not very funny,” Cody said to Rachel while motioning toward his dad. “That ol’ bull really stomped him a good one.”
“That he did, pard,” Grady said, easing himself down onto the recliner. “You wanna do me a favor?”
“Sure, Dad.”
“Run out to the tack room and fetch that brown bottle of liniment. You know the one, don’t you?”
“Sure, I know it. I’ll be right back.”
“I didn’t mean—ah, hell. The kid runs everywhere. Has since the day he learned how to walk.”
“I’d love to hear about that,” Rachel told him, “but right now I want to know what really happened to you. Tell me you did not get stomped by a bull.”
He laid his head back and closed his eyes. “I got stomped by three of them.”
“What?”
He opened his eyes and looked at her. “Sit down and promise me you’ll let me have my say before you say or do anything.”
Rachel was getting a really bad feeling about this. She sat on the chair next to his. “Okay, I promise.”
“Promise me you won’t try to do anything about this.”
“About what? You don’t want me to look at your injuries?”
“You can look till the cows come home. You can even doctor them if it makes you feel better—although I can do real fine without any more stitches, thank you very much. That’s not what I’m talking about.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Rachel, you have to be careful.”
“Grady, I promise I’ll be as gentle as possible.”
“You’re not listening,” he said harshly. “I don’t want you driving around this county by yourself. Do you hear me?”
That bad feeling she’d had a moment ago turned ugly. “Grady?”
“I went to town last night, and on the way home I got stopped.”
Rachel’s stomach clenched. “By Martin.”
“You guessed it in one.”
Her eyes widened. “Did he do this to you?” She came up out of her chair. “Did he?” she demanded.
“I’m not that easy a mark. He had help. He called out two of his deputies.”
Rachel closed her eyes and held her breath. “Tell me one of them was not Dane Powell.”
“No, Powell wasn’t one of them.”
“Thank God,” she whispered. She would have died if she’d been that wrong about Dane. He was one of the good guys.
“They didn’t need a fourth man. I can hold my own in a fight, but not against three walking refrigerators.”
“Oh, Grady.” She knelt beside his knees and looked up at his poor, battered face. “They hurt you.”
“I’ll be all right,” he said. “But I admit I’m worried about you. After the way you told him off Saturday…I don’t mean to scare you, Rach, but you be careful, you hear me? Don’t give him any excuse to stop you. Don’t let him catch you anywhere alone.”
“I’ll be careful, I promise.”
“Do you still carry that varmint pistol in your car like you used to?”
She nodded. “Under the seat.”
“Good. Make sure it’s loaded. If Martin or one of his deputies tries to pull you over when you’re out on a call, don’t stop. You hear me, Rachel? Don’t stop. You keep driving and drive straight into town, or somewhere else where you know there are people in plain sight.”
“It’s all right,” she soothed. “Now that I’m warned, I’ll be careful, don’t worry.”
“The smartest thing for you to do,” he said in a tight voice, “would be to stay as far away from me as you can get.”
Rachel’s heart skipped a beat. “Is that what you want me to do?”
“If it keeps you safe.”
“That’s not what I asked. But never mind,” she said, determination building inside her. Sheriff Martin and his threats had forced Grady to leave five years ago to keep Cody safe. She would be damned if she let that man come between them again. “I’ll decide what’s smart for me and what isn’t. How bad are you hurt?”
He laid his head back down and sighed. “Bad enough, but I’ll live.”
“Your ribs?”
“Just bruised and sore.”
“How do you know? Did you go to the doctor this time?”
His lips twitched as he narrowed his eyes. “What do you think?”
She narrowed her eyes right back. “Who put in the sutures? And where are they?”
“Dr. Alma.” He showed her the back of his left forearm. “She’s had plenty of practice over the years.”
Rachel studied the three sutures and found them clean and neat. She couldn’t have done better. She wasn’t sure she could have done it at all—sutured Grady’s skin—without falling apart afterward.
She rested her forehead against the arm of his chair. “Oh, Grady, I’m so sorry.”
Grady’s chest tightened when he heard the tears in her voice. He couldn’t stand that. “Hey.” Placing a finger beneath her chin, he nudged her head up until she looked at him. Her deep blue eyes were swimming. “Don’t, Rach. It’s not your fault.”
“I know, but—”
He placed his thumb over her lips to still them. “But nothing. He’s hated me for five years. He’s always going to hate me.”
“What are you going to do? You can’t let him get away with this. What will he do to you the next time he catches you out alone?”
“I’m going to be a hell of a lot more careful, for starters. And so are you. If a county sheriff’s car tries to pull you over, you put that gun of yours in your lap and drive straight to town, like I said. Drive to the police station. You hear me?”
She nodded. “I hear you.” She took his hand from her chin and kissed his bruised knuckles.
Grady felt that kiss clear down to his heels.
“I see you got in a few licks of your own.”
He smiled wryly. “They didn’t walk away clean. I’m sure they all had a little explaining to do when they got home.” He looked down and for the first time noticed how Rachel was dressed. Kneeling below him as she was, her blouse dipped low and fell off one shoulder, showing skin so creamy-smooth-looking his fingers tingled with the craving to touch it. A little too much skin, if anyone were to ask him.
“Good God, woman. Tell me you didn’t go on call dressed like that.”
She fluttered a hand to her throat. “Why, this old thing?”
“Some lonely ol’ rancher would have swallowed his tongue if you bared that much skin to him.”
The smile that came across her mouth and lit her eyes was potent enough to scare him. She stood up slowly and placed one hand on each arm of his chair. Then she leaned down to him, her blouse gaping even more.
“I sure hope,” she said in a sultry voice that made sweat pop out across his back and palms, “that you haven’t swallowed yours.”
The brush of her mouth against his was so gentle it was barely there, and yet he’d never felt a kiss more potent.
The front door slammed.
“I got it, Dad.”
She pushed away and straightened slowly. “Nope,” she said in that sam
e siren voice. “It’s still there. And I’m glad. I seem to remember you used to be rather…clever with it.”
Grady blinked. Was she talking about his tongue? The tongue he was sure he’d just swallowed?
“Here it is, Dad.” Cody bounded into the room with the bottle of liniment.
Grady had to clear his throat twice before he could speak. “Thanks, pard.”
“You want me to rub that on for you?” Rachel said softly with a wicked gleam in her eye.
Yesterday she ran from him. Today, when he was in no shape to do anything about it, she was coming on to him.
“If I said yes,” he told her, his eyes narrowed, “you’d run.”
She laughed. “You wish.”
“When do we get the surprise you brought?” Cody asked, setting the bottle of liniment on the table next to the recliner.
“Yeah,” Grady said, relieved, maybe, to have the subject changed. “What’d you bring us?”
“Well,” she said, drawing the word out. “Do you have room for a little dessert?” “Oh, boy,” Cody cried.
Rachel’s hands shook all the way home that night. Whether it was nerves or excitement, she wasn’t sure. But the look of shock on Grady’s face when she’d kissed him did her heart good. She wondered if he knew his hands had trembled when he touched her just before she left.
She thought to stay away from him the next day, but decided against it. During a brief break in her schedule she stepped outside for some much-needed fresh air and walked down to the corral where Grady and Joe were doctoring some cuts on a yearling calf.
“You call a vet?” Grady asked Joe.
“Nope. Not me.”
“Don’t mind me,” Rachel said. “I’m just stretching my legs.” You remember my legs, don’t you, Grady? You used to like touching them, stroking them when I wore shorts or a skirt.
He looked up just then and caught her gaze, and she sucked in a sharp breath. It was as if he’d heard her thoughts, the look in his eyes was so hot. Her heart raced. With a big smile, she turned and walked away. “See you later,” she called back over her shoulder.
“What was that all about?” she heard Joe ask.
“Damned if I know,” Grady muttered.
Later that afternoon, biting back a moan every time he moved, Grady remembered what had sent him to town the night before and put him in the path of Sheriff Gene Martin.
Toothpaste. “How’s that for irony?” he muttered as he made his way to his pickup. A tube of toothpaste to keep his teeth clean had nearly got those same teeth knocked right down his throat. Toothpaste, a can of deodorant, shaving cream. A simple run to town for some basic personal needs.
By the time he’d made it home he’d forgotten about them. He opened the pickup door now to retrieve the sack and snarled at the dried blood staining the seat, the steering wheel, the floor mat. Little drops and smears all over the damn place.
“Well, hell.” He grabbed the sack of items and took it into the house. There he filled a plastic pail with cold soapy water, then went back outside and tackled the cleanup. The steering wheel and the floor mat came clean with no problem, but the seat, covered in fabric rather than vinyl, was another matter.
Joe came over and stuck his head in the open passenger window. “Alma says, and I quote, ‘tell him to get his rear in the house and get off his feet and that bad knee before he does more damage to himself.’ Said she’d clean this up in the morning when she got back from grocery shopping.”
Grady replied with a grunt. “I don’t think even Alma can get this damn blood out.” He threw his rag down in disgust. “Never did like these seats anyway. I still miss that custom-made fake-sheepskin seat cover I had in my old pickup. But then, if I’d got blood all over that, I’d have to kill Martin, and then I’d go to prison, and you’d have to raise Cody, and—”
“I get the picture. Anybody ever tell you you’re about as friendly as a rabid skunk when you get your ego bruised?”
“My ego’s just fine,” Grady snarled. “I’m not ashamed of being bested by three hulking Neanderthals who outweigh me by about fifty pounds each.”
“That’s good to hear. Not that they outweigh you, but that your ego isn’t as bruised as that pretty face of yours.”
“What a pal.” Dipping his fingers into the pail, Grady flicked soapy water at Joe’s face.
“Hey!” Joe swiped a hand over his face. “You’re never gonna get those stains out. Why don’t you just get yourself another one of those custom seat covers you’re so fond of?”
“I tried when I bought this rig, but the company I got the last one from is out of business. I never took the trouble to try and find another one.”
“Well, while you’re looking, why don’t you see if the old one’s still any good? It might come close to fitting.”
“What old one? It’s long gone by now, just like the pickup it was in.”
Joe grunted. “Guess you haven’t looked in the far shed since you’ve been back.”
Grady frowned. “My old seat cover is in the shed?”
“I reckon it could be. Your old pickup is.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Your dad always said some day you’d come home, and you’d want it when you did. He even kept up the tag and registration. The safety inspection would be long out of date, and who knows if it’ll start after all this time, but it’s there.”
“I’ll be damned.”
The pickup was there, coated with enough dust to choke an elephant, but it was there. And so was his custom-made, fake-sheepskin seat cover.
Memories by the dozen hit him in the chest at the sight of it. Memories of Rachel. Of all the times they’d snuck off to some secluded place after dark to make out, the way Rachel would sink her fingers into it and hold on while he pleasured her with his hands, his mouth. And then it would be his turn to hold on while she returned the favor.
Sometimes they would just talk, build their dreams, plan their future.
“Since the windows were rolled up, the inside’s not so bad,” Joe observed. “Considering it’s been sitting out here for five years.”
Grady took in as deep a breath as his bruised ribs would allow, and shook off the memories. He had enough trouble with Rachel in the present. No need to get himself all hot and bothered over their past.
“Now that,” he told Joe, “is a seat cover.”
He searched out the elastic straps that fit over the seat corners to hold the cover in place. The bottom corner on the passenger side, where Joe was helping, caught on something and wouldn’t come free.
“I remember now,” Grady said, circling the pickup. “There’s a trick to it. Let me.”
Joe stepped aside and Grady leaned in. He remembered that this side always hung on a spring underneath. He had to get his head right down on the floorboard so he could see what he was doing.
The cover came free, but so did something else.
“What the hell…” It was a small, hardbound book, with flowers on the cover, along with several dark stains that looked sickeningly familiar.
He had never in his life carried a book with flowers on the cover. Maybe it was some old book of Rachel’s that had gotten accidentally kicked under the seat on their way home from college that last year, one of the last times he’d driven this rig. But he couldn’t imagine her having a bloodstained book. He flipped open the cover, and felt like he’d been sucker punched.
This is the Personal and Private Diary of
LaVerne Marie Martin
Keep Out
Under Penalty of Death
Good God. LaVerne’s diary? How the hell…
“Get it loose?” Joe asked from behind him.
“Uh, yeah.” She must have had it with her the night he’d found her on the road and taken her to the hospital. The night Cody was born. The night she died.
He swallowed hard. The stains on the cover were blood. LaVerne’s blood, from the beating her father had just given her.
> “Well, get it on out of there and let’s see if it fits.”
“Uh, yeah. Right.” But he wasn’t ready to mention the diary to anyone just yet. Not until he got a good look at it.
He was going to feel like a heel reading through a dead girl’s private diary, but he’d just have to get over it. The one thing Martin had hung over Grady’s head, the one cold accusation he’d threatened to make that there would have been no way to disprove, could, maybe, be disproved in this diary. If LaVerne had written it down. This could be the lever he needed to force Martin to back off.
He bundled up the seat cover and slipped the diary into the folds. “I’ll wash it first.”
Rachel spent the rest of that week and all of the next putting herself in Grady’s path every chance she got. Never for very long, and never when there might be an opportunity for genuine privacy. Not that there ever was such an opportunity, what with Louise and Jimmy and Alma and Joe and Cody around all the time.
But that was all right for now. She wasn’t ready to go that final, irrevocable distance yet. He didn’t want her enough, wasn’t eager enough yet. She wanted to tease them both with anticipation. She wanted him as desperate for her as she was for him.
And, she wanted to work up her nerve. It was one thing to tease and lure, quite another to deliver the goods, so to speak.
Then, too, she wanted to see that look of wariness fade from his eyes.
Grady was just about ready to bite nails—and not the kind that grew on fingers. The kind a man pounded into wood with a heavy hammer. He didn’t know what Rachel was up to, but he knew he couldn’t take much more.
Not that he didn’t like it, this…whatever it was she thought she was doing. The teasing, the sexy clothes. The way she kissed him, then danced out of his reach, leaving him panting and ready to beg.
It could all only mean one thing—that she really did want him. Unless she’d decided on this particular torment to get back at him for what she thought he’d done five years ago, but he couldn’t believe Rachel was that calculating.
He’d been the one to hesitate and pull back that day in the tack room. She had offered herself to him, and that had been genuine. And what had he done? He’d questioned her, made her think he didn’t want her. When she’d fled the barn that day, he’d thought that was the end of it. That she’d taken his hesitation as rejection. And he’d decided that was for the best.
The Price of Honor Page 16