Like Arrows (Cedar Tree #6)

by Freya Barker

  I realize I must've dozed off too, when a few hours later, my phone buzzes in the pocket of the jeans I hadn't had a chance to take off. Kim is still in deep sleep and not wanting to disturb her unless I have to, I slip out from under her body, which is still draped over me. I watch her curl up on her side and walk out of the bedroom, pulling the phone from my pocket.

  "Yeah."

  "Thought you might want an update," Gus says. "She's got a broken arm, a few broken ribs, a body black and blue from the beatings and a nasty cut on her neck from a knife held to her throat. They expect her to make a full recovery though. Physically. Not sure how 'fine' she's going to be emotionally, but Damian says she's a tough cookie. She'll likely be released tomorrow or the day after and Damian is sending both her and her husband to a safe house."

  "Kim will want to see her, at least talk to her," I point out.

  "You and I both know seeing her is out of the question. At least if we want to keep both of them safe. Talking to her can probably be arranged in a few days."

  "Any word on the second guy?" I suspect he would've led with news of any capture, but it doesn't hurt to ask.

  "The rental was found in the airport parking lot, keys left in the Avis drop box. He must've slipped through before the FBI could get there, but the only possible flight he could've gotten on is one that stops in Phoenix before flying through to Austin. They're scouring the passenger manifest right now to see if anything pops up and have a team standing by at both airports. We nab this guy, it may be the break we need to tie it all together."

  "Good. Not enjoying sitting on the sidelines while this plays out, Gus," I confess, my frustration growing with the inability to control the situation. I'm actually torn. The need to protect Kim obviously outweighing any urge to go out and try and get this case resolved. But that doesn't mean I don't want to be out there making sure that bastard can't do anymore damage.

  "I hear you, my friend, but with the FBI now actively involved it would be difficult sticking our noses in anyway. Not just the state of Colorado, but the federal government doesn't take kindly to our natural resources being held hostage. And from what little information Damian has fed me, there is a strong suspicion the buck doesn't stop with the Texas oilman. There are indications the real power comes from outside our borders."

  "Damn."

  "Exactly. Too big for us to take on. So we worry about our little slice of that pie and make sure Kim stays safe." After a moment of silence, Gus continues, "And Mal? She seems like a sweet woman who is able to roll with the punches so far, showing a lot of grit, but this is a lot for her to process in a really short time. Be careful. If the events of the past month don't break her, I get the feeling that you easily could."

  He hangs up before I can respond. I know I'm having an effect on her. Hell, I'd be lying if I said she wasn't having an effect on me too. Living without any emotional connections for many years was necessary to survive the criminal and often violent people I used to associate with. Since then my hard shells have started cracking under the influence of my brother and his family, but also the acceptance and friendships I've found here in Cedar Tree. Kim seems to be peeling away at the hardened shell, piece by piece, and she doesn't even know she's doing it.

  The clicking of nails on the stairs announces Boo is awake and in search of relief. I unlock the backdoor and let him out. A quick glance at the clock shows it's almost seven—time for coffee. With a pot brewing I start pulling some things from the fridge: eggs, cheese, ham, spring onions, salsa and a roll of Pillsbury biscuits. I find a baking dish in the cupboards and butter the insides. While the oven heats, I split each of the biscuits in two. After covering the bottom of the pan, I add some ham I cut in strips, some chopped onions and top it with a pile of grated cheese. A couple of eggs poured over top, followed by chunky salsa, a bit more cheese and with the remaining biscuits I finish it off.

  Kim

  I startle awake when one side of the mattress dips down under the weight of Boo, who is apparently tired of waiting. He's not supposed to be on the bed, but I still take a minute to snuggle with my arms around his neck.

  "Boo. Down."

  It would seem Boo didn't come alone. A shirtless Malachi, with his jeans hanging loosely on his hips, is standing in the doorway. Of course, Boo listens to him and immediately jumps down. But a second later, the dog's place is taken by the man. The man smells a hell of a lot nicer, like food and Malachi. Both probably not very good for me.

  "Your face just scrunched up. Do I smell?" he asks, chuckling as he lays beside me, his elbow in the mattress and head propped up on his hand. The other is pushing the strands of hair away from my forehead and tucking them behind my ears.

  "Yes... " I say without thinking, watching his eyebrows shoot up. "Shit. I mean no, well... technically yes, but in a good way." One of Mal's rare smiles stretches wide on his face.

  "A good way, huh?"

  "You smell better than Boo."

  "God, I sure as hell hope so. That dog smells like the bottom of a dumpster," he deadpans.

  "Ew. Gross." I wrinkle my nose at the analogy before explaining. "You smell like comfort food and you. I was just thinking how it's quite possible neither is good for me."

  The amused expression on his face dulls and I get the feeling I said something wrong. When he moves to roll away and get up, my hand shoots out to stop him. The confirmation that my words stung comes when he turns his now impassive eyes on me.

  "I've got to get breakfast out of the oven," he says as he pulls his arm from my hold and walks to the door.

  "Wait..." I call out after him, clambering off the bed to catch him. "I said something wrong, I know it, I can see it, but I'm not sure what it was."

  He stops at the top of the stairs and turns back to me. At least I can see some emotion in his face, not that bland mask he seems to wear in public a lot. He doesn't speak though, making me a little nervous so I blunder on.

  "I like the way you smell." I try to remember what I said exactly. "Maybe I should've worded it better. I obviously didn't do a good job." Then suddenly it occurs to me what else I said and how that could've been perceived the opposite way in which I intended. With the heat of a blush burning my cheeks, I walk over to where he stands and put my hands on his chest. "I said neither is good for me." The spark in his eye—ever so brief, but there nonetheless—tells me I've hit the bullseye. Confession time.

  "Food is a hang-up for me. You know that. So I don't think that requires explanation, but you...you are not bad for me. You're good for me, and that's bad." Once again his face registers confusion. I'm not sure how to explain without exposing more than I had planned. "I'm afraid you could really hurt me when it's time for you to move on."

  I can feel the sharp intake of breath under my hands and looking up, I see the confusion is now replaced with anger. "When?" he asks in a deceptively soft voice, but I can feel heat bubbling underneath. "When it's time for me to move on? Not if but when?"

  I open my mouth to respond, but before I have a chance he bends down, flips me over his shoulder and marches me right back into the bedroom where he tosses me down on the bed, landing squarely on top of me. "Didn't think I'd have to explain this," he growls as he cups my face in his hands, forcing me to keep eye contact. "I'm not going anywhere. I don't know where you get this when business from, but it's complete bullshit."

  "I'm sorry..." I mumble, a little unnerved.

  "I care for you. Know I'm balancing a dangerous line between professional and personal..." He closes his eyes and shakes his head. "What the fuck am I saying? I crossed that line the moment I saw your pretty brown eyes looking straight into mine. You've burrowed in deep, Nizhóní, and you don't even realize it. This doesn't end with the job. Fuck no, it's barely even started."

  Who knew that hope could be so painful and beautiful at the same time? I can barely breathe as his words start to sink in. The girls told me in Vegas. Heck, under their encouragement I even believed it when I told off thos
e two bitches at the airport. I trusted it then, but in the hours since so much has happened, I seem to default to self-protective mode. But this time I insulted, maybe even hurt Mal.

  "I wish for that," I tell him lamely. "I'm falling and I'm scared."

  There is a light tug on the side of his mouth when he leans in and skims my lips lightly with his, before dropping his forehead to mine. "Don't be scared. I promise you a soft landing."

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Kim

  "Would you stop blaming yourself? You have no responsibility in this."

  Kerry has apparently had enough when I apologize once again for getting her involved in my mess.

  "You didn't ask for this, nor could you have predicted it. I'm fine, there's nothing that won't heal and although I've been made to swear not to disclose our location, it is quite beautiful where we are. I'm just a little nervous about the store being closed for so long."

  "I'm glad you like where you are, but I'll be happier when you can come home. As for the bookstore, one of Mal's colleagues went over the other day and put a notice on the door saying it's closed due to a family emergency. That should give you some time. And once we can all breathe easy again, I'll help you get back up to speed. It's the least I can do," I offer.

  "You know what? That's actually a great idea—you can come work for me. We'll have to sit down at some point and hammer out details but there's so much I've wanted to do with the store and never had time for. I have all kinds of time to plan now, and with your help once we're up and running I could have the time to implement. This is awesome!" Her enthusiasm would be contagious if not for the angry voice in the background that I know belongs to her husband Greg. He is none too happy with me and unlike Kerry, fully places blame on my shoulders for her attack.

  "Doesn't sound like Greg agrees with you," I point out sadly, but Kerry instantly waves it off.

  "Don't worry about him. He's just pissed he's missing his weekly bowling league. He'll have to get over it."

  Far be it from me to get involved in their business, but I'm not too sure about their future together. Greg has been more concerned about how inconvenienced he has been than about his wife's kidnapping and injuries. Odd duck, that one.

  "My handler tells me I have to hang up," Kerry interrupts my thoughts, "but promise me you'll think about it? The store I mean?"

  After vowing I will and saying goodbye, I hang up.

  "That Kerry?" Mal asks, walking out onto the back patio where I'm having my morning coffee. I've had to 'borrow' one of Mal's big hoodies to keep the chill off, but other than that it is a gloriously sunny early spring morning and I'm loving it.

  "Yup. She's wanting me to come help her at the bookstore. You know... after?"

  "Be perfect for you," he says with a nod, before leaning over my chair and pinning me with an incendiary kiss that momentarily blanks my mind.

  He's been like that a lot these last few days. Ever since he assured me he was falling for me as well, he's gone out of his way to show me. I've never had such singularly devoted attention before. Of course that is in part because he is keeping me safe, but I have a feeling that even without this immediate threat, he wouldn't venture too far. Katie told me the other day when we were having lunch at the diner again, that she'd never seen him look this relaxed. She claims it's me and I'd love to think I have something to do with his much easier smiles. He has everything to do with the fact that I feel cherished. I'm almost at a point where I can look in the mirror and catch a glimpse of what he claims to see in me. At the very least I'm happier than I can remember ever being, although it's disturbing I can feel that way when my life has been completely uprooted. The fact someone is out there, trying hard to find me, still boggles my mind. Not to mention the upcoming MRI that might make my life go totally tits up. I shake my head slightly to get rid of that terrifying prospect. It’d be just my luck that just as I start believing the possibility of a beautiful future, my health threatens to take it away. Not ready to face that possible reality yet. Certainly not ready to put it out there in the open, so I firmly shut the door and instead focus on the obvious threat. Fuck my life.

  Yesterday we found out through Gus's contact with the FBI, that guy Damian, that they still haven't found the second suspect in Kerry's abduction and Jacob Hartnett has gone off grid. They can't find either of them. Hartnett's staff both at the house and at his offices is providing a solid barrier, claiming he's gone overseas for some important business meetings for an undetermined period of time. Gus mentioned that Damian seems to think Hartnett was feeling the heat and went underground. The other guy seems to have slipped past the agents waiting at both the Phoenix and Austin airports. They do have a name based on the passenger manifest but by the time they eliminated all other passengers and were able to zero in on one Philip Winters, he'd already disappeared. They did manage to find this guy has quite an extensive list of suspected prior offenses. He's apparently well known within the Austin PD. That doesn't exactly make me feel safe and secure, but the constant presence of Mal and the involvement of the rest of the GFI crew sure helps.

  I look over at Mal who's stretched out in the chair beside me, his legs up on the side of a planter. He is resting his arm next to mine with our fingers entwined. It's on my lips to thank him for sticking with me when the phone in my other hand rings again. Mal's head turns to me as I answer the call.

  "Hello?"

  "You couldn't call to remind me?" My mother's voice rips right through my fragile sense of security. Mal's fingers tighten around mine and I realize he's able to hear her grating voice from where he's sitting. Not wanting to have him be witness to what I'm sure will be a dressing down of some kind, I try to get up from my seat, but I'm stopped by his hand grabbing my wrist. Resigned, I sit back down and without looking at him, answer my mother. "Remind you of what, Mother?" My voice sounds weak and my mother is on it like a vulture.

  "Your birthday was last month. Forty, wasn't it? I know you probably prefer not thinking about it, given that age is likely not helping your looks much, but it's a milestone nonetheless. Would've been nice to hear from you."

  I almost laugh out loud. My age is more of a milestone for her and not in a good way. When Britta turned forty a few years ago, my mother had needed a two-week stay at a spa to 'help her through it.' But as usual, this time it's easy to focus her negative energy on me. As if it is in my power to avoid turning forty. She's in her sixties now and although I haven't seen her in years, I have no doubt she looks as flawless as she ever did. The biggest compliment she'd occasionally receive was when asked if she was Britta's sister. Even more ridiculous is the notion that it is my responsibility to remind her of my birthdays. But that is my mother. She likes confrontation, at least with me.

  "Didn't celebrate, Mom. Haven't for years. It was just another day." I don't tell her about the events shortly following my birthday that ensured my mind had been otherwise occupied anyway.

  "I can imagine. Probably best to stay away from celebrations anyway. They tend to come with an overabundance of calories that you know you can't afford."

  The angry heat is coming off Mal as I can sense him sitting up straight. He heard. Just lovely.

  "What can I do for you, Mom?" I try to steer away from the inevitable discussions around my weight and lack of male companionship. Although for once, the latter doesn't apply to me. I had companionship, and it was very male, but better to avoid feeding that tidbit to my mother.

  "I wish to come and visit."

  The thought of my mother in a place like Cedar Tree with all its normal people is laughable. I have to press my lips together not to snicker at the image of Mom facing off with let's say, Arlene or Emma. Even Katie. My mother doesn't hold a stick to any of these women but I doubt she'd see it that way. To her they'd be nothing more than working class and far beneath her. Heck, I'm far beneath her and I'm her daughter.

  "What is the occasion? I haven't seen you in years." It's true, it's been years and the lack of
contact has been as much my responsibility as hers, but then I don't like volunteering for the type of abuse she tends to rain on me.

  "All the more reason. Britta has an appointment with an important client on Friday in Durango. I thought I'd come along for the drive and pop in."

  "Haven't lived in Durango for the past three years or so. I believe I told you I bought a place in Cortez?" I know I did. I sent her the listing and pictures of the house and surroundings, but she never responded. Don't know what I'd hoped to gain by that. The woman had never been proud of anything I accomplished. I think that was when I stopped hoping to gain her approval.

  "I don't remember anything of the kind," is her acerbic response. "Cortez you say? Is that nearby? We could perhaps stop in after her meeting."

  "It's not a good time, Mom, and besides, I'm not at my house right now. I'm staying with friends while my place gets repainted." I lie through my teeth, making big eyes at Mal who continues to boldly listen in. The result is a slight tilt of his lips. He is completely unapologetic in his eavesdropping.

  "Friends? I didn't know you had any." And there we go, my mother's sharp tongue comes out for another lashing. But before I can respond, Mal's hand shoots out and takes the phone from me.

  Mal

  Just the sound of that woman's scathing voice has my hair on end. The belittling tone and condescending choice of words she uses with her daughter is infuriating. Yet Kim sits there quietly taking it all, sometimes even with a ghost of a smile on her face. That does not sit right with me.

  She'd admitted a few days ago she was in deep enough that I could seriously hurt her if I left. At long last, she had made herself vulnerable to me and that meant a lot. It meant enough for me to do a little confessing of my own. Her telling me she was falling for me had settled deep in my chest. I couldn't tell her I was falling, because I was already gone. I'm in deep, but the words to tell her exactly how deep are hard for me to say, so I spent days showing her in every way possible. I've let my body do the talking, showing her how beautiful she is to me, making her look me in the eye as she falls apart under my mouth, my hands, my cock. I watched her slowly start believing and I'll be damned if I let that piece of shit excuse for a mother of hers break down that little bit of confidence Kim's started building up. Hell no.