“The truck is this way.” Tate motioned toward the far side of the parking lot.
Her voice was calm, soothing, but he noticed that she kept her distance. Who could blame her? Not when he’d gone from fine to fractured with no warning. He squinted, trying to focus. What was he looking for? Oh, yeah. The truck. His truck. One step and another and another after that. Success, he was definitely making progress.
“Give me the keys, Hunter. I’ll drive.”
He didn’t argue. He wouldn’t want to ride with him at the wheel either. When they reached the truck, she opened the passenger door for him. Turnabout was fair, he supposed. But there was one problem. He couldn’t stand the thought of being shut up inside the cab. Not even with Tate. Maybe especially with Tate when his control was shot all to hell.
“I’ll ride in back.” He pushed past her, heading for the tailgate to climb in.
“But it’s starting to rain,” she protested, holding her hand out to catch a few drops to show him.
He shook his head, refusing to listen. “I can’t, Tate.”
“Okay,” she conceded, but clearly not happy about it. At least she wasn’t trying to drag him off to the ER.
He stretched out in the bed of the truck, staring straight up at the night sky. The engine rumbled on, the vibration feeling good to him as the brush of the air rushing past cooled his skin. All he needed was to focus, to touch the smooth ivory… his cane! Where was it?
Pure panic had him flailing around in the truck bed, hoping to find it and knowing he wouldn’t. The last time he remembered seeing it was at the restaurant, when he’d set it down on the extra chair at the table. Son of a bitch! Darkness that had nothing to do with the night blotted out his vision. The weakness made him ashamed, but if he didn’t get the cane back, he’d fly apart and never find all the pieces again.
He raised up and pounded on the back window of the cab with his fist. The truck swerved back and forth. Damn it, he’d scared her, but they had to go back. Now, before it was too late.
She eased the truck over to the shoulder and rolled down her window.
“What do you need, Hunter?”
He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the rearview mirror as he leaned down to talk to her. Poor Tate, no wonder she looked a bit rattled. He looked like a madman, with his hair windblown and his eyes glazed over with fear.
“My cane. I left it at the restaurant.”
“They’re probably closed now. We can get it back in the morning.”
He slammed his fist down on the roof of the cab hard enough to leave a dent. “No! I need it now.”
Tate jumped at his outburst, but then gave a slow nod. “Okay, then. Sit back down before I swing the truck around. Wouldn’t want you bouncing out on the pavement.”
Her calm acceptance helped him gather up the tattered edges of his control and pull himself back together, enough so he could breathe and count the seconds as they sped back into town. Bless Tate’s heart, she slid through stop signs and only flirted with the speed limit to get back to the restaurant. She didn’t mess with the parking lot, stopping right in front of the entrance.
Hunter looked over the side of the truck. Crap, she’d been right. The front lights were off. Tate knocked on the door, and when that didn’t work, she tried again using both fists. Finally, someone inside pulled back the curtain to look out through the window next to the door.
Evidently they tried to tell her the place was closed for the night, like she wasn’t smart enough to figure that out for herself. Tate started pounding again. Finally she stopped and stepped back.
“I’m sorry. I know you’re closed, but my friend left his cane at our table. I would’ve waited until tomorrow, but it’s a family heirloom and he has to leave first thing in the morning.”
Her words struck hard blows to Hunter’s chest. Common sense said she was only saying that as an excuse to make them hunt for the cane. Even so, under the circumstances he wouldn’t blame her for wanting him out of her apartment. If she asked him to leave come morning, he’d be packing up and looking for a new place to hide from the world. Devlin Bane wouldn’t be happy, but Hunter was more concerned about Tate. If he’d scared her enough to want him to leave, he would go.
The jerk in the restaurant left Tate standing there in the rain while he ostensibly went hunting for the cane. Couldn’t he have let her come inside for a couple of minutes? It made Hunter want to punch something, or better yet, someone. Before he could climb down out of truck to do just that, the guy was back. He opened the door only far enough to shove the cane out to Tate, then yanked it shut again.
Retribution would have to wait.
“Here you go, Hunter.”
As soon as his hand latched onto the cane, he focused all his attention on it. Closing his eyes, he traced the cool, hard carving of the handle. As he stroked the ivory with his fingertips, his pulse gradually slowed, at least enough that he no longer feared his heart would burst.
The familiar touch, combined with the soft rumble of the truck’s engine as they tore through the damp night, helped bring back his awareness of their surroundings. They were almost at the turnoff to Tate’s place. Ordinarily he would’ve been relieved to be back in familiar territory, but not this time. He was in no shape for long discussions, even if he could bring himself to tell Tate the truth about himself.
But somehow he doubted she was going to simply hand him his keys and disappear into her house. Maybe by morning he would’ve found some way to explain what had happened, but right now he could barely string two coherent thoughts together. As the truck slowed for the final turn, he braced himself for a bumpy ride that had nothing to do with the ruts in Tate’s driveway.
Tate turned off the engine, then rested her head against the steering wheel. Boy, oh, boy, she really did not want to leave the quiet sanity of the truck cab. The seat was wide enough for her to stretch out. Maybe she should just lock the doors and sleep there, safe and sound.
Not that she was in any danger from Hunter Fitzsimon, at least not physically. She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to block out how he’d gone from friendly to frantic in a heartbeat with no explanation. One second he’d been anxious for dessert and the next, he was charging toward the exit.
Then there was the whole cane thing. He’d made it all the way to the truck without it, so he didn’t need it to walk. Yet clearly he couldn’t make it home without it.
There was a light knock on the driver’s side window. Time to face the music.
She pulled the keys out of the ignition and grabbed her purse. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and slid down out of the seat. Hunter made a move as if to catch her but then jerked his hand back.
For a moment neither of them spoke, caught up in that awful in-between of needing to say something and knowing there was nothing to be said. Nothing that would matter anyway.
“Are you all right?” His voice was softer now.
“I’m fine.” She stepped far enough away from the truck to shut the door. With her back to him, she asked, “Are you?”
“I’ll see you to the door,” was all he said, which was no answer at all.
“I don’t need—”
He cut her off mid-sentence. “Tate, I will walk with you to the door or I’ll follow you to the door. Your choice.”
She so didn’t want to do this. “Fine. Suit yourself.”
But when she tried to walk around him, he blocked her path. “We’ll never get to the porch this way, Hunter. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired.” He moved closer, his face outlined in stark clarity by the security light above the garage. She wanted to offer him the comfort of her touch but wasn’t sure she could bear being rejected. Instead she waited patiently for him to spit out the words he was all but choking on.
Finally, he looked up at the sky, as if he could find the answers up there, written in the clouds as they passed.
“Look, Tate, all I can say is I’m sorry if I scared you, and I’ll understa
nd if you want me out of here. Just give me tomorrow to pack up and I’ll be gone.”
Having delivered his speech, he stalked away, heading off into the darkness. His words cut through her exhaustion, leaving pain and denial in their wake.
She chased after him. “Hunter? What are you talking about? I may be tired, but I’d remember if I’d issued an eviction order!”
He didn’t even slow down.
“If you’re talking about what I said to that guy at the restaurant, it was only because he kept insisting I come back when they were open.”
That didn’t even slow Hunter down. She kicked off her sandals, ready to run after him if necessary. “Damn it, Hunter, I don’t want you to go.”
Hunter stopped at the edge of the trees, once again becoming part of the shadows, reminding her how well the darkness suited him. “All the more reason I should.”
And then he was gone.
It took her a few more seconds to find the strength to turn back toward the house. She made it to the porch alone, despite his promise to walk her there. Before stepping into the kitchen, she studied the woods for a few seconds. Although she couldn’t see him clearly, she knew Hunter hovered only a short distance inside the tree line, waiting and watching until she reached the safety of her home.
She lifted a hand to let him know she was okay. Sure enough, there he was, a dark blur blending into all of the other shadows. Had he waved back? She’d like to think so, but she doubted it.
But then again, he ran so hot and cold on her, maybe that had been a branch she’d seen moving in the wind.
Tate walked through the darkness to her bedroom upstairs. She was too tired and strung out to maintain her usual vigil in the window seat. Tomorrow would be soon enough for her to check on Hunter.
She got ready for bed, hoping for a good night’s sleep. She was going to need all her strength if Hunter had indeed made up his mind to leave. If so, it was doubtful that she’d be able to convince him to change his mind, but she planned to try. She smiled as she pulled the covers up to her chin—she might even play dirty and sic the Auntie Ms on him. He might be willing to walk away from her, but she bet he’d have a hard time saying good-bye to those three ladies.
He stood in the trees watching the house long after Tate’s lights went out. When he finally moved, everything hurt, and his leg screamed in pain. Doc Crosby had warned him that stress and tension always attack the weakest part. Hunter tightened his grip on the cane until it hurt, the distraction helping him find his way through a darkness that had nothing to do with nighttime.
Exhaustion made it difficult to breathe, much less move, but he needed to do something before he sought out his own bed. Paladins didn’t let injuries get in the way of the job, not if they still had the strength to hold a sword. Hunter might be only a shadow of the man he once was, but duty still mattered. He followed the tree line around to the back of Tate’s yard, where the trail led down toward the beach.
Poised at the edge of the woods, he looked back at the house one last time, wishing like hell he knew what to do about Tate. He’d scared her badly tonight, but she’d shoved her fear aside and gotten them both home safely.
Home. Shit, he had no business and no right to think of that apartment as home, any more than the nondescript room deep in the cave in Missouri had been. Both were little more than places to sleep when he wasn’t needed for his strong sword arm, like the Paladin who’d lived there before him and the one who would move into it now that Hunter was gone.
He was okay with that. So often the names of individual soldiers, the ones who bled and died, were lost in the dim memory of history. It was only their accomplishments that were remembered. Paladins lived and died to protect the world. Their names didn’t matter, only that they did the job they were born to do.
It was time to get to work. He’d check the cave and stand watch for a while. And not just because he wasn’t ready to face being indoors yet. He looked back toward the house one last time, meaning to start the long hike down the bluff. But as his gaze swept across the lawn, his eyes caught on something in the grass.
A pattern. Someone had passed by Tate’s house, and fairly recently. The grass was heavy with moisture, so whoever had walked through it had left a trail. He circled wide, tracking the footprints back to their start near the road. Two men had walked side by side, straight past the house and right to the trail where Hunter had been standing. What’s more, there was a return trail only a few feet away.
Son of a bitch! Two men might have gone into the woods, but three had come out. Devlin Bane was going to have his head when he found out that Hunter had been in town on a date when their enemy had crossed the barrier. Most likely the man would send Trahern and company up to kick Hunter’s ass off the cliff for a screwup of this magnitude, and Hunter wouldn’t blame him a bit. He hit Devlin’s number on speed dial and left a terse message.
It was probably too late to accomplish anything tonight, but he’d go down to the beach anyway. Maybe the bastards would come waltzing back before dawn. And when they did, they would die. Not because they were screwing both of their peoples for filthy lucre but because they’d brought their greed to Justice Point.
Innocent people lived here. Good people, asleep in their beds with no knowledge of the nightmare that existed on the other side of that barrier. And if he had to bleed out the last drop of his life’s blood to preserve that innocence, then so be it. With sword drawn, he began the long march down to the beach.
Tate woke to the sound of birds singing and someone pounding on her front door. She wasn’t sure which one annoyed her more.
She made a quick stop in the bathroom and stumbled downstairs as she pulled a sweatshirt on over her tank top. At the bottom of the steps she paused, waiting to see if the pounding started up again, hoping her visitor had left.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she muttered.
Tate unlocked the door and yanked it open, ready to rip into someone. After all, the shop’s hours were clearly posted. One look outside, though, and the words died on her lips.
“You’re back.” Hunter was going to be pissed.
D.J. nodded, not looking any happier about the situation. “Where’s Hunter?”
She blinked at him, trying to decide if the tone in D.J.’s voice was worry or anger. “He’s not here, if that’s what you’re asking. His apartment is over there.”
D.J. shifted his weight from foot to foot and back again. “I know that. But if he was there, I wouldn’t be here, would I? His truck’s parked by the garage, his apartment is empty, and his bed doesn’t look slept in.”
His words burned away the cobwebs in her head, leaving only fear. “Let me get my shoes on. I’ll help you look for him.”
D.J. nodded, although her near panic had clearly startled him. “I’ll wait here.”
She ran to the back door, where she always kept a pair of old sneakers for gardening. They had holes in the toes and broken laces, but right now high fashion wasn’t her concern.
True to his word, D.J. was standing right where she’d left him. If she wasn’t so worried about Hunter, especially after how they’d parted company last night, she would’ve found D.J. amusing. Had she ever seen a grown man vibrate with so much penned-up energy?
When she stepped outside, she was relieved to see that Hunter’s truck was indeed still there. She hated knowing that she’d halfway expected both it and him to be gone this morning. So if he was gone, he hadn’t driven.
“Did you check the bed of his truck? He likes to be out at night. Maybe he dozed off there.” But she couldn’t imagine him sleeping through D.J.’s arrival.
If her question surprised Hunter’s friend, it didn’t show. “No, but I’ll go take a look.”
He jogged over to the driveway but shook his head after looking in, and even under, the truck. Well, she hadn’t really expected it to be that easy. Darn it, she should’ve insisted that Hunter stay with her last night, even if they had to spend the nigh
t on the back porch.
Could he be over at the Auntie Ms mowing the lawn? She didn’t want to worry the sisters, so she forced herself to walk toward their house. If Hunter was there, she should be able to see him from the street.
Sure enough, there he was, shirt off, the sun glinting off the red undertones in his hair, looking as if he didn’t have a care in the world other than pushing that old mower through the grass.
She wanted to hit him. She’d gone to bed worried about him and woke up to the same rush of concern. He spotted her coming toward him but didn’t stop. Instead, he flipped the handle over on the push mower and started back across the yard.
Did the jerk he really think ignoring her would work? He should know better by now. She caught up with him before he’d made it halfway across. Another couple of steps and she planted herself firmly in his way. Without hesitation, he went around her, leaving her standing in a patch of long grass feeling stupid.
This time she put her hand over his on the handle of the mower.
“I’m busy here.”
His voice was cool, disinterested even. She might have even bought it if she hadn’t felt the tension in his hand before he jerked it out from under hers. Rather than give him hell for scaring her, she gave him the message she’d come to deliver.
“Your friend D.J. is looking for you.”
“He’s not my friend.”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t care if he’s secretly your mother, Hunter. He dragged me out of bed to look for you. Now go talk to him so I can get back to my own business.”
Her mission complete, she walked away. She could hear Hunter coming up behind her. Rather than let him catch up, she cut across her yard and walked straight inside without looking back. Inside, she leaned against the counter and waited for her pulse to slow down.
Darn the man, anyway! She’d been so worried about him last night, but he seemed fine this morning. She’d have thought she’d overreacted, but D.J. had been concerned about him, too. Well, maybe now they could both relax—or maybe not. The memory of how he’d acted last night was too fresh for her to forget that easily. He might have pulled himself back together but for how long?
Defeat the Darkness (Paladins of Darkness 6) Page 9