Danger in Deer Ridge (Blackthorne, Inc.)

by Terry Odell

  He touched her shoulder. “No, everything is fine. The electrician is gone, so I thought I’d wait in case the movers showed up.” He felt her shoulders relax.

  “They’re not going to get here until one, so I ran some errands. But thanks for waiting.” She nibbled at her lip. “Did you find out anything else?”

  “No.” He frowned. “Did you get my call?”

  She fished through her purse, then peered in her car window. Opening the door, she said, “Was that you?” She leaned across the seat and retrieved her phone from the console. “I can’t drive these roads and talk.”

  “Give me a ringtone,” he said.

  “What?”

  “I want you to know it’s me. In case there’s an emergency.”

  She tilted her head. “Why do I get the impression you’re not talking about something to do with the kids?”

  Okay, so he’d been a little too obvious. “Do it. Please?”

  “You think someone’s coming after me.”

  “No, but I was a Boy Scout. I like to be prepared.”

  She chewed her lip a little more. “Okay, but let me give you a different number. Grace is the only other person who has it, so if you call on that phone, I’ll answer no matter what.”

  He plucked his phone from its case on his belt and programmed her second number. He smiled. “I’ll give you a special ringtone, too.”

  She gazed up from her phone and grinned. “Special ringtones. Does that mean we’ve taken our relationship to the next level?”

  Chapter 15

  “What do you think?” Elizabeth waited for Grinch’s response to her description of the bearded man from the grocery store.

  “That would be Billy. Lives up toward Cripple Creek. They call him the bird man.”

  “I tried to notice things.”

  His lazy grin rewarded her. Grinch sat on the couch beside her, technically not encroaching on her personal space, but near enough. She shifted, trying to get comfortable with his overwhelming maleness. She took a breath to continue. More sage and cedar engulfed her. She might have to sneak a peek into his medicine cabinet to find out what aftershave he used. Why not ask him? Nope, she’d rather risk sneaking.

  She curled her fingers into fists. “But it makes my brain hurt. How can you keep track of all those things?” She was used to zeroing in on who was wearing what at social events where she had to remember people she didn’t know. Faces blurred. “Maybe I have a case of face-blindness.”

  “I doubt it. It’s all about practice,” Grinch said. “It’s being aware of your surroundings. Paying attention to facial expressions, body language. You don’t notice people who are behaving normally, doing everyday things—which is why it’s so important for you to learn how to control your own behavior.” He paused, trapped her with his gaze, and took her fisted hands.

  Okay, now she was truly uncomfortable. But not because she didn’t want him so close, or touching her. Because she was enjoying it too much. She nodded, afraid her voice would come out all squeaky.

  He increased the pressure of his grip. Not enough to hurt. Barely enough to make her risk accepting the comfort he offered.

  He spoke, his tone as comforting as his touch. “When I first saw you, it took about half a second to know you were scared to death—and not only of me. You’re telegraphing your fears. Even if someone wasn’t looking for you, you’re sending up flares that say, ‘I’ve got a secret.’ That’s what I’m trying to help with. I know it’s a pain, but part of becoming someone else is becoming someone else.”

  She nodded again.

  He lifted her chin until she had to meet his gaze. “Starting with eye contact. You don’t want to stare—that’s a sign of aggression—but if you totally avoid looking at someone, you’re calling attention to yourself. It’s normal to give people the quick once-over when you pass. You have to learn to absorb as much as possible while you’re doing it.”

  “I’m trying. Honest.”

  “I’m sure you are. Now, can you tell me what you’re so afraid of? Why does your husband want to find you so badly?” He inched closer. “Enough so you had to fake your own death?”

  She swallowed. “Does it matter? Isn’t it enough that I’ve given up everything? For Will more than me. All I wanted was to get away. And I have.”

  Her voice cracked. She shook loose from Grinch’s grasp and turned away, taking several deep, shaky breaths. She was not going to cry. She’d shed her last tears the night Will had stood up to Victor. Barely eight years old, he’d planted himself between her and his father, fists clenched, chin lifted, demanding that Victor not hurt her anymore. And had taken a swipe that had nearly broken his arm in return for his bravery.

  What was the cliché? The first day of the rest of your life? Well, that had been hers. It had taken a long time, but she’d escaped with Will.

  Regaining her composure, she wiped her eyes and faced Grinch. “My husband beat me. Belittled me.” She choked out the next words. “Cheated on me.”

  A flash of pain crossed Grinch’s face. He reached for her hands again, but she shook her head and folded them in her lap. It was easier to do this without emotional involvement. He nodded as if he understood.

  She went on. “When he started on Will, I knew I had to leave. So I did. I knew Victor would be furious—it was admitting he’d failed at something.” She snorted. “Victor hates losing. At anything.”

  “From what I hear, you’d done a good job of covering your tracks.”

  “I thought so. Until I got into some trouble with the cops in San Francisco. I was lucky. They let me go in return for the name of the man who’d paid me to buy cold medicines.”

  “For manufacturing meth?”

  She nodded. “At the time, I needed the money enough to do something totally stupid. I got caught. After the cops let me go, Dalton took me and Will to Grace’s, and she set up my disappearing act. It was supposed to make Victor stop hunting.” She raised her hands, palms up. “And here we are.”

  She couldn’t tell him more. Not yet. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him. It was—well, if two people know a secret, it’s not a secret anymore. And if Victor sent someone after her, why endanger Grinch? Or Dylan. No need for anything else to go wrong for the poor kid.

  His expression said he knew she’d glossed over one heck of a lot, but he seemed willing to let it go. For now.

  “As long as we have time, let’s move on with your training,” he said.

  She sighed. “All right.”

  “How many cars in the bank parking lot?” he asked.

  Her heart sank. “I … I didn’t notice.” And before he asked, she added, “And I don’t know about the grocery store, either.”

  “I’ll bet you know more than you think. Close your eyes. Remember driving into the bank lot.”

  What was it with that eye-closing thing? Didn’t he know when he was sitting this close, exuding that masculine aroma, that when she closed her eyes, all she saw was him?

  His voice soothed. “It’s a left turn. Did you have to wait for a lot of cars?”

  She chewed her lip, trying to remember, to see the traffic. As if she’d flipped to a new television channel, the picture appeared. “Yes. One. It was a bus—one of those shuttles that goes up to the casinos. And after that, it was clear.”

  “Excellent. Now, you’re in the bank lot. Where do you park?”

  Her eyes popped open. “The first row was almost full. I thought there was a spot, but there was a motorcycle in it. A black one. So I parked in the second row, next to a green SUV.”

  “I knew you could do it.” He grinned. Her stomach tingled. Without thinking, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. Not a real kiss, but it was dead on the lips. Her face burned hotter than reaching into the oven for the Thanksgiving turkey.

  She pulled away and stared at her lap. “I’m sorry. I … I’ve never—”

  “Kissed a man on impulse?”

  She shook her head. “That�
�s so not like me.”

  His laughter was deep and rich. “Perfect!”

  “What … what do you mean?” She couldn’t meet his gaze.

  “I mean that doing things Julie Ann would never do is part of becoming Elizabeth. What else would Julie Ann never do?”

  She lifted her eyes and realized he was dead serious. Good. Maybe he’d forget the kiss. Her fingers brushed her lips. He leaned forward and tilted his head. She closed her eyes. Her pulse tripped. Her breasts strained against the thin fabric of her bra. Had he noticed?

  He leaned closer. “What else?” he whispered. A warm hand brushed her cheek. Her lips parted.

  Chester’s excited barking brought her to her senses. A loud rumbling approached. Engine noises. Loud ones.

  “The movers!” She jumped from the couch and ran to the door. Saved by the crunch of gravel.

  “You know the moving company?” Grinch’s voice was hoarse. Rough. As if … she shook the thought away. He couldn’t possibly feel the way she did. If anything, he was being polite. Trying to help her be not-Julie Ann.

  She wasn’t sure she wanted Elizabeth to be the kind of woman who would kiss a man she barely knew. Not the way she’d wanted to kiss him, anyway. Elizabeth, she decided, would definitely be a peck-on-the-cheek woman.

  She steepled her fingers and ran them down the side of her nose. “Yes. Grace gave me all the information.”

  Grinch appeared at her side, gently taking her shoulders and moving her behind him. “What’s the name?”

  “Rocky Mountain Movers.” She tried to peer around Grinch’s broad shoulders. He told Chester to stay. The truck stopped. He stepped aside. She read the logo on the truck. Rocky Mountain Movers.

  “Wait here,” he said in almost the same tone he used for Chester.

  She bristled. “They’re bringing my things.” Well, not exactly, since Grace had ordered it and made some kind of deal with the property owners. But while she was living here and paying rent, they would be hers.

  “I’ll be one minute. Wait. In the kitchen.” He faced her. “Please.”

  “Fine.” She crossed her arms under her breasts and stomped to the counter. She heard Grinch greeting the movers, then some quiet conversation she couldn’t understand. Good grief, was he going to run a background check on a couple of guys in a moving van? From her vantage point, she couldn’t see Grinch or the movers.

  And they can’t see you.

  Her stomach plummeted. He was protecting her. She’d been afraid when she’d been alone. But the thought of a man—a big, strong, savvy man—protecting her meant he thought she was in danger. And if he thought she needed his kind of protecting, then the danger was a lot scarier than anything she’d imagined.

  Grinch returned, carrying a large clipboard. “I’ll run the inventory. You tell them where to put everything.”

  She snapped to attention. “Yes, sir. Directing the movers as ordered. Sir.”

  He opened his mouth, then closed it and went to the porch, where he leaned against the rail away from the door. From the truck, she heard a man’s voice calling out numbers, which Grinch repeated.

  An oversized chair seemed to float into the room. “Where you want this?” a reedy voice asked.

  She pointed to a spot in the living room. “Over here is fine.” The chair clunked to the floor, and Reedy Voice wiped his hands on the seat of his jeans. Head down, he went out for more.

  Why hadn’t he looked at her?

  * * * * *

  With the last of the boxes unloaded, Grinch took the paperwork inside for Elizabeth’s signature. She took the clipboard, but gazed past him toward the door.

  “Something wrong?” he asked. Was she trying to ignore what they’d almost done before the movers had interrupted? And it was damn well they, not she. She may have created the opening with her burst of uninhibited excitement, but he hadn’t backed off.

  He detected no embarrassment. Instead, she motioned him farther from the door. “The skinny guy,” she whispered. “He seemed … suspicious. Wouldn’t make eye contact. Do you think he’s really a mover? The other one was more ... normal.”

  Grinch gave it a moment’s thought. No red flags had gone up. “They were all normal enough with me. Judging by the way the other guys teased him, I got the impression he’s nervous around women.”

  When she worked her lower lip with her upper teeth, he reached out and laid a finger on her mouth. She jerked away, flushing red.

  “You have to watch that,” he said.

  “Watch what?”

  “You have a habit of chewing on your lip. It’s a tell—something that might help someone recognize you.” Behind him, he was aware of footfalls coming up the porch steps. He tapped the clipboard with the pen. He raised his voice a notch. “If everything’s all right, sign here.”

  “Huh?”

  He tilted his head toward the door. “They need the paperwork so they can go.”

  “Oh. Right.” She scribbled something by the X at the bottom of the page.

  Glad she’d written something that looked a lot more like Elizabeth Parker than Julie Ann Vaughn, Grinch strode to the door and handed the clipboard to the driver. The man muttered his thanks and jogged to the van.

  “So, you don’t think I have to worry?” Elizabeth asked.

  He saw the mixed emotions flash across her face. A hint of pride that she’d paid attention to her lessons, apprehension that the mover might have been someone with an agenda other than unloading furniture, relief when he’d told her that her suspicions were off base. “No, the driver told me they were running late. I think they were in a hurry.”

  He surveyed the room. The movers had taken away the old couch, and the living area had a homey feel with the new furniture in place. He checked the four wooden chairs around the dining table for wobbles. No problems. Grace had picked out some decent stuff. “If you put felt pads on the legs, it’ll protect the floors. You want me to help you unpack?” He smiled. “I can reach the high shelves.”

  A flush rose to her cheeks and she shook her head. “I need to live here a bit, get the feel of the place so I know where things will work best.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Actually, I want to get to your house. I have to get the spaghetti sauce started before we have to pick up the boys.” She handed him a key. “You can lock up when you’re done.”

  Okay, so the almost-kiss never happened. He could live with that. Stupid to get involved with her—with anyone—right now. Best to keep things on a professional level. Will was her world, and for now, Dylan was his. She didn’t have room for a relationship any more than he did. But damn, he’d keep her safe. “Take Chester.”

  As soon as Elizabeth left, he called Al Rondell.

  “Big favor, Al.”

  “Name it. Anything for the Grinch.”

  “I need you to put the Parker repair on the slow track. Real slow.”

  “You said slow, right?” There was a prolonged silence, as if Al had to weigh all the possible reasons for the unusual request. Then a low chuckle. “The Parker woman. I get it. Sure. Got lots of high priority jobs.”

  “Al. I need you to keep this between the two of us. Understand?”

  “My lips are sealed. You can count on me, Grinch. You go, man.”

  Grinch hung up, shaking his head. He’d added another link to the “Keep Elizabeth Safe” chain. Not a weak one, he hoped. He flashed back to high school. Crap. They didn’t have locker rooms at Mountain Electric, did they?

  Grinch returned home to the heady aromas of onions and garlic. For a moment, he was a kid again. He stood in the kitchen doorway for a moment, watching Elizabeth stirring the ingredients of a pan, engrossed in her task, a faint smile teasing at her lips. For the first time since he’d met her, she appeared relaxed. Happy. He decided he preferred this image over the one of his mom cooking. And, because she seemed oblivious to his presence, he sighed and stepped to her side.

  She squealed, spinning around and splas
hing him with greasy droplets from the spoon she’d been using. Her eyes widened, then she shook her head and smiled. “You shouldn’t sneak up on me like that. You scared me half to death.”

  He took the spoon and set it on the counter. “You’re lucky it was me, or you might be more than halfway to death.”

  Her expression switched to fear. Damn, he hated being the bad guy.

  “Someone’s coming?” She glanced around, as if searching for a weapon. Her fingers settled on the handle of a large knife. Sort of like the way she’d greeted him the first time he’d shown up in her kitchen.

  He stepped forward, easing the knife from her hands. Okay, she’d probably have put it down on her own, but his fingers—along with most of the rest of him—enjoyed the contact. “You’ve got to pay attention. All the time.”

  She pushed away and stirred the contents of her pan. With vigor. Her lips flattened. “Chester would have barked.”

  “If I’d been a stranger, he should have barked, yes. But no line of defense is perfect. He might have been bribed with a steak. Or shot with a tranquilizer dart.”

  Her shoulders tightened. She started opening and closing cabinets, making enough noise to bring Chester running. Grinch signaled him to sit.

  “Mixing bowl,” Elizabeth said.

  Grinch strode to the cabinet where his mother had kept her bowls and pulled out a nested stack of metal ones. Without comment, he set them next to the stove. Elizabeth chose the largest one and shoved the rest aside. She grabbed a package of ground meat from the counter and ripped the plastic wrapper open. After dumping the meat into the bowl, she faced him. “Out. I’m cooking.”

  “Elizabeth—”

  “I get it. I’m not observant, I’m not exercising due diligence. I can’t trust anyone. I blew it. I’m sorry. Now go away and let me cook.”

  He opened his mouth, but the vehemence in her tone propelled him out of the room. Whether or not someone was after her wasn’t the point. She had to develop the skills as if they were. She needed to be more aware of what she had to do, and confident in her ability to do it. Once she’d cleared those hurdles, she’d be fine.