by C. J. Pinard
I laughed and pulled away from her, turning my head to spit on the ground. “Blondie, I’ve taken drugs, and gotten shots. They work temporarily but those drugs are weaknesses I don’t need in my life. I’ve been living with this for four years. I’m dealing just fine.”
“Okay,” she said quietly. She turned around to go back into the house, wrapping her arms around herself as she shivered slightly.
“Rayanne.”
She stopped and turned around. “Yes, Duke?”
“I’m sorry about the kitchen. That was unprofessional of me. It won’t happen again.”
She smiled sadly, and said, “And I won’t have any more bourbon. Obviously, it’s been a while, and I could barely handle a couple of shots.”
“That’s right, because I hid the bottle.”
She nodded and turned around, heading back to the house. I added, “I may let you have a little more tomorrow if you’re good. You’re kinda cute when you’re drunk.”
Stopping for a second, I thought I heard her laugh, and then she kept walking and disappeared behind the old wooden door of the small cabin.
Chapter 16
Rayanne
I went into my room and closed the door, barely enough energy to change into my nightshirt and pajama bottoms and crawl into bed. Between the bourbon, the cooking, and the angst with Duke, I was exhausted.
I lie there staring at the ceiling, trying to figure him out. His good looks were so distracting to me, that at first I had failed to see the pain behind his eyes. His brow always seemed to be creased, and I took this as anger, but maybe it was pain. Sure, I’d noticed his limp, but plenty of people live with injuries but aren’t in chronic pain. My heart went out to him, as I couldn’t imagine not only living with chronic physical pain, but there had to be some emotional trauma that went along with it. He had said that the pain reminded him that he could still feel. Had he closed himself off after his injury?
He clearly had no wife, and probably no girlfriend either. Everything about him screamed terminal bachelor, and with the attitude he was putting off, I could totally understand why. What woman, aside for more than a night of fun, would want to put up with him? It was like he purposely put off asshole vibes to keep people at arm’s length. Which led me to wonder why he chose the profession he was in. It was his job to protect victims whose lives had been threatened, all because they were trying to do the right thing and put bad people behind bars where they belonged. A role like that seemed to scream ‘protector’ and ‘hero’ – not standoffish asshole.
Duke was most definitely a puzzle I was determined to figure out. Hell, I had nothing better to do. I’d read 9 of the 10 books we’d bought at the store and I was growing restless with reading and needed something else to occupy my brain. Maybe I’d find some more buttons of his to push and see if he pushed back.
Morning light streaming in through my window, combined with the smell of coffee and the clanging of cast iron aroused me. I glanced at the alarm clock plugged into the wall on the small, round bedside table. It was barely 8:00 a.m.
I really didn’t want to get out of bed because I knew I had another boring day of nothing ahead of me. I know a lot of people – people like my sister and my mom – who would kill for a day of nothing. But not me. I liked to keep busy. On a normal week, I would work 50-60 hours a week at the law firm, realizing my personal time was even more precious after working so hard. Now, I was bored out of my mind.
Reluctantly flipping back the covers, I yawned and stretched, getting up out of bed and heading toward the kitchen, where the smells there were enticing me.
Duke was at the stove with a spatula in his hand, his ass looking way too fine in a pair of silver athletic shorts. The muscles in his back bunched and moved, taking the fitted green T-shirt with them.
“Good morning.” I smiled.
He grinned and turned back to the stove. “Good morning.”
“Coffee?” I said, smoothing down my hair that I was sure was sticking up. That was the downfall to this short haircut. It stuck straight up after a night of sleep.
He used the spatula to point across the kitchen where the coffeemaker was perched on a table near the curio cabinet. As I made my way over there, Duke said, “Here.”
In his hand, he held a plain white coffee mug.
“Thanks.”
I filled up the mug with the steaming black perfection, and went to the fridge to find some creamer. He’d only bought vanilla flavored, so I dumped a little in, and used a spoon sitting on a folded paper towel to stir it.
I sat at the table and carefully took a sip. God, it was so good. Since I had nothing to do but stare at Duke as he cooked, I didn’t allow myself to feel guilty for doing so. I mean, what else was I supposed to do? I didn’t have a phone to play on or a newspaper to read. Plus the view was much better than anything online.
He turned around and carried a steaming plate over to the table and set it in front of me. I looked down at it. There was a perfectly made omelet and two slices of bacon. I usually didn’t care to eat as soon as I got up, but I most certainly wasn’t going to say anything.
“Thank you,” I said, sincerely meaning it.
Duke walked to the table with his own plate and fork and sat down across from me at the little outdated wooden table.
He didn’t say anything, just dug into his food and began to eat.
I tried not to watch him, but couldn’t help it. He held his fork like a shovel, his entire meaty hand wrapped around the silver stem, as he, in fact, shoveled it into his mouth.
Biting back a grin, I carefully used the side of my fork to cut the omelet and forked a piece of it into my mouth. The omelet was perfect, and I told him so. “This is delicious, Duke. Thank you.”
He looked up when I spoke. His eyes met mine and he looked at me, a gaze so intense it seemed to burn right through me. It was as if he had something to ask me, something to say. I held his gaze, my eyes darting back and forth between his, willing him to say something. Something nice, that is. I couldn’t take any more of his gruff behavior. I was proud and happy to think that I’d broken through his shell just a little bit in the past few days. Was he one of those guys who was just misunderstood and you just needed to get to know him better? I wasn’t sure, but what I did know was that no matter what someone’s circumstances, nobody had a right to be mean and ugly to someone else just because they were miserable.
He stared at me a bit longer than was proper, so I set my fork down on my plate, and smiled. “What is it?”
Keeping his silence, he continued to stare. It was as if the words really, really wanted to come out. His lips stayed clamped in a straight line, his fork still solidly in his hand, but for some reason, he didn’t look very hungry anymore. Finally, he said, “Thank you for last night.”
My lips twitched in amusement, and I just couldn’t help myself. “It’s been quite a while since a guy said that to me.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said, his eyebrows furrowed.
I leaned back in my chair laughing. I laughed so hard, I almost fell out of it. My stomach hurt and I wrapped my hand around it. “I know. The look. On. Your. Face.”
My eyes met his dark blue ones once again and I could see a small bit of laughter there. He was resisting a smile now.
“Come on, that was funny, Cowboy. Lighten up and eat your bacon.”
He nodded, a genuine smile now transforming his face into the handsome man I sometimes caught a glimpse of. He scrubbed a hand over his beard then picked up a piece of bacon and slowly put it in his mouth. I watched the action with way too much attention. His teeth were pearly white and perfectly straight, not something you’d notice right off-hand because of the beard. I also thought I might have seen a dimple puncturing his right cheek, but it was hard to tell because of the facial hair. His nose was very straight, and again, those eyes of his. I wanted to stare at them forever.
“Maybe it’s you who should finish eating,” he said in that deep
, smoky voice, knocking me out of my daydreams about home and the beaches there.
I nodded and bit into my bacon, not looking at him but thinking of a way I could get him to take me somewhere. An idea came to me, but he wasn’t going to like it. I finished my food then folded my hands in my lap.
“I hate to tell you this, but I’m gonna need to go to the store again,” I began.
His head was shaking before I finished my sentence. “Nope, not gonna happen.”
I smiled with as much charm as I could and said, “But I need more of my… stuff.”
“What stuff? Your feminine crap?” He got up and snatched my plate from the table, and carried it and his to the sink. “You got what you needed. We’re not leaving.”
With more courage than I felt, I said, “No, I ran out. I only got a little bit but, um, I need more.”
Total lie. Aunt Flow had left town a couple days ago, but I knew this was the only way I’d get this guy to take me into town. I had to get the hell out of this house. And as much as I knew he was meant to be protecting me, I didn’t think there was any way the maniac threatening me had traced us to bum-fuck Virginia. We had no cell phones, or any electronic devices for that matter. We’d paid cash at the Walmart earlier… it wasn’t possible we’d been traced and I had to get the heck out of here.
I refused to call myself a manipulator, even thought that was the word Duke had thrown out a few times. I wasn’t one. Maybe I was extroverted and found my energy by being around people – I’d read something about it in one of the magazines I’d bought at the store when we’d gone. But regardless, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t happy that I’d gotten my way.
The town was tiny. With only a few stores, a gas station, and few select hardware and fast-food places, there wasn’t much to it. Not that I cared.
“Get what you need, and make it quick. We can’t afford to be seen,” Duke said as soon as he turned the engine off.
“Yes, sir,” I said, saluting him.
He rolled his eyes and got out of the car. I waited in the passenger seat for him to come around and open my door. I’d learned early on that he liked to do that. I wasn’t going to fool myself into thinking he was actually a gentleman. I’m pretty sure he did it to control where I went and to guard me from any potential danger. Either that, or he was a control freak, but I sort of didn’t believe that. I chose to believe the former. It helped me keep my sanity. Plus it made him even hotter.
What the hell is wrong with me? I’m not supposed to find this guy hot. He’s a jerk. Sure he’d softened a little in the past few days, but in no way was I gonna be some stupid girl and believe that anything I’d done had contributed to that. Except kiss him. God, that kiss…
Instead of going to Walmart, I told him we could find a drugstore. I knew I could buy books there too, and magazines, and a bunch of other stuff to occupy me. He found the only chain drugstore in town, and as he opened my door, he closed it behind me and locked it, then grabbed my hand. He looked around the parking lot before we went inside, the automatic doors greeting us.
Once we got inside, he kept hold of my hand, his eyes darting around. I led him straight to the feminine products, hoping he’d let go of my hand once we got there. He didn’t. Duke seemed to be on edge a little more this time, and his grip wasn’t hurting me, but it was tight. I reached for a box of pantyliners, because really, it wasn’t like I’d never use them, I’d just pack them in my suitcase and bring them home when I needed them next month. He made a face but didn’t let go of my hand.
I decided to have some fun with him, and jutted my chin at the end of the aisle. “Sure you don’t need anything? Some condoms or maybe some spermicide?”
He raised both eyebrows, his eyes widening a little before his face recovered, and he actually smirked. Damn, I was hoping to get more of a reaction out of him. “No, why? Did you have something in mind for them?”
Crap, walked right into that one.
So shrugging, I said, “I’m game. It beats sitting around watching TV and being bored. Wouldn’t you say?”
Yep, two can play at this. His eyes moved down to my mouth the way they had last night, and back up to my eyes. “I’d say. But I already have my own condoms, should we, er, should I ever need them.”
I winked at him. “Okay, well better check the expiration date on the one in your wallet, Cowboy. Could be expired.”
He snorted and dragged me to the end of the aisle. He picked up a black box of “extra-large” ones and set them on top of my box of pads. “You’re right, it might be expired. Better stock up for when I get back home to Tampa. I’m gonna need to blow off some steam after this.”
With that, he let go of my hand, and I stood there with my mouth open. Dick. I chucked the box of condoms back on the shelf and didn’t bother looking for him. I found the aisle with magazines and looked to find a few I’d like to read. I also found a small rack of Harlequin paperbacks, and grabbed a few of those too. Smiling at my find, I turned to head toward the front to pay for them and saw my personal bodyguard standing at the end of the aisle. His arms were folded over his dark blue polo shirt, his legs shoulder-width apart, and his jaw… was he chewing gum? Oh, my God. All he needed was a curly white earpiece and some sunglasses and he’d look the part.
But holy crap, did he look hot.
Maybe I should go back and grab those condoms… I wasn’t kidding when I teased him about how it could pass the time. Not that I’d ever have the bravado to seduce him. Or any guy. What was wrong with me?
“Are you done?” he asked, chomping on his gum.
Well, at least it wasn’t dip…
I nodded. The strap on my white sandal had come loose, so I bent down to adjust it. The stupid clasp always came undone. I really need to get some new ones. When I was satisfied the buckle was secure, I stood up and was met with stormy blue eyes.
“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Duke asked, his dark eyebrows bunched together.
Confused, I replied, “Fixing my sandal. Why?”
His eyes traveled the length of me, then back up into my eyes. “It’s bad enough you wore those shorts,” he said, his eyes flicking to, well, my jean shorts, then back up to my eyes, “because it’s entirely too distracting to have you bending over, along with those… those… shoes.”
I huffed and shoved my hand onto my hip. “What the hell is wrong with my shoes?”
Do not disrespect the shoes. He was out of line and I wasn’t going to tolerate it.
“You can’t be serious,” he murmured, turning around and walking away.
I followed him to the check-stand, where I paid cash for my books, magazines, some candy, and a tube of lip-gloss that was on display near the register. We then left the store, and Duke disarmed the small sports car and opened the passenger door, ordering me in.
Chapter 17
Duke
I shut the door to the tiny car, and as I was rounding it to get into the driver’s seat, I spied something I hadn’t seen in a very long time: A pay phone. Smiling, I walked to it, happy I could still keep an eye on the vic as I used the phone.
Digging in my pocket for change, I shoved some quarters into the antiquated machine and dialed Kyle’s cell phone number.
He answered on the third ring. “Hello?”
“What’s up, man?” I greeted him.
There was a short silence, and then he said quietly, “Duke?”
I chuckled. “Of course. Just checking in. How are things?”
“Great, just great. All quiet on this end. Luke, Lucy, and I have been keeping an eye on the house. Isn’t that right, Luke?” I heard him pull the phone away from his mouth at the last part.
A child’s voice in the background made me smile a little. “Yes, Daddy.”
“You watching him around the water, man?” I asked, still concerned about Kyle bringing his kid near my pool. I wasn’t sure exactly how old Luke was, but I’d guess between four and six, and since I had no idea how old ki
ds were when they learned to swim, I was always on edge.
Kyle laughed. “Yeah, Hawthorne. Luke does just fine in the water.” He paused, then said, “Hey, son, go hang your wet trunks over the side of the bathtub, okay, buddy?”
“Okay, Daddy,” I heard in response.
A short pause later, Kyle said, “Honestly? He mostly hangs out in the Jacuzzi. He likes the pool but he seems to prefer the hot tub, where he can stand up.”
Sighing a little in relief, I replied, “Well, that’s good, I suppose. Anything else going on?”
“I got a job interview at Mathis Associates,” he replied.
That piqued my interest. Mathis Associates was the largest nonprofit in Tampa dedicated to helping veterans. “What will you be doing there?”
Kyle chuckled. “Oh I’m sure something that involves me being chained to a desk and all.” Then he got quiet. “I’ll take what I can get, though. I need to keep busy.”
I understood his reasoning, being as he was missing half his leg. “I hear ya, brother,” I responded, nodding against the heavy black receiver of the phone.
I glanced to the car. Rayanne appeared to be flipping through radio stations.
“Any news on when you’ll get back?” Kyle asked.
Contemplating my answer, and knowing pay phones were most likely not bugged, I responded, “The trial is in about five days. I’m hoping to get back to the land of the living then.”
The gum in my mouth was beginning to irritate me, so I spotted a nearby trash can and chucked it in there.
Kyle said in my ear, “Thanks, good luck, Duke. Stay safe.”
“Thanks, brother,” I responded. Then I hung up.
Deciding I didn’t have many other opportunities like this, I glanced over at Rayanne in the front seat of the car, laughing at her scowl. I then shoved more quarters into the pay phone.
My brother, Mason, answered on the second ring, “Hello?”