Every Girl Needs a Hero

by Debra Kayn

  Chapter 14

  Katelynn stood by the front window in the cabin looking out at the two deer munching on the leaves of a huckleberry bush after work. Quint slipped into the bedroom, leaving her to the entertainment outside, and shut the door.

  Moving the throw rug beside the bed, he pried the floorboard up and reached into the hiding spot under the cabin. He found the two pictures he needed amongst numerous papers.

  It wasn't enough to have Katelynn under his roof again. He needed to make sure if anyone looking like the two men in the pictures showed up at headquarters, she would get out of the office and find him immediately.

  He put the board back in place, straightened the rug, and stepped over the part of the floor he'd Jerry-rigged, testing for any creaks or weak spots. Over the years, Two-crow had collected all the information on the six men who'd kidnapped them away from state care and held them in Mexico.

  The information was now his to hold on to.

  He returned to the main room of the cabin and found Katelynn still looking outside. Despite her lack of experience in nature, she'd jumped into working for him and seemed curious about what the Bitterroot Mountains had to offer campers.

  She turned at his footsteps. "The deer are still out there."

  "They'll stick around until they're full or something scares them away." He sat down on the couch.

  "It's getting dark. Don't they bed down at night?"

  "Sometimes. But, if there's food to be had, they'll keep eating." He turned on the lamp. "Can you come here for a second?"

  She approached him. He set the pictures on the coffee table. His fingers curled, wanting to snatch them away from her eyes, and he forced himself to sit back. He wished he wouldn't have to taint her life anymore, but he needed to keep her safe.

  He'd already lied about why she had to stay at the cabin and give up the tent. The mosquitos were a part of the area, but she had no way of knowing that.

  "Take a hard look at the two men in those pictures. If you ever see them come into headquarters, I want you to leave and find me." His chest tightened. "Don't answer any of their questions, don't help them, and don't believe a thing they try to tell you."

  "Okay." She picked up each photo and studied the men. "Are you expecting them?"

  She never asked who they were or what they'd done. He swallowed down the bitter truth. Katelynn was innocent to the ugliness of the world. She had a bad experience with Miller, but she'd lived a safe life up until then.

  "They have a habit of showing up at the campground," he said.

  "Did they rip you off or leave without paying?" She stretched her arms behind her back. "Write a bad check?"

  His gaze lowered to her breasts. "Yeah, bad campers all the way around."

  "I don't get why people do that. We had a whole poster board full of returned checks at my last job. Then, if we took a check from them again, the employees got in trouble." She lifted her hair off the back of her neck. "I'm good with faces. If they come in, I'll know it."

  His cock pulsed to life. He looked away from her and scooped up the pictures and went back to his room, shutting the door.

  Making sure the photos were back with the other evidence, he left the room and returned to Katelynn. He'd told her enough, and she'd assumed something else entirely. Hopefully, it would save her if Jaster and McCloud showed themselves.

  The photos were ten years old. He counted on the years not changing their appearance much.

  Katelynn yawned. He went over and looked outside. The deer were gone.

  About to face her again, he spotted the headlights of a truck coming up the driveway. He wasn't expecting anyone.

  "Katelynn?" He held his position at the window. "Turn off the lamp beside you."

  The room darkened. He moved away from the window and took down the shotgun from the rack above the door.

  "What are you doing?" whispered Katelynn.

  "We've got company." He looked in her direction, squinting to see through the darkness. "I want you to stay inside."

  "Wait." Her sneakers scuffed against the hardwood floor.

  Aware of the truck engine shutting off outside, he heard every movement Katelynn made. He grabbed her arm, keeping her away from the window.

  "Mathews, get out here," bellowed a man. "Bring Katelynn with you, you son of a bitch."

  Quint's body hardened. He held her in front of him, protected from the danger outside. The only people who knew she was with him was the others, the police, and his employees.

  Katelynn grabbed on to his shirt. "Th-that sounds like Gil Miller, Cord's brother."

  He eased up on holding her and cupped her cheek. "I'll get rid of him."

  "He's a drunk," she whispered.

  He nodded. "I've dealt with him before."

  "Be careful."

  He opened the door and stepped into the light, he pumped the shotgun, letting the ch-ch make his statement.

  "Mathews, where's my brother?" yelled Gil, standing in front of the headlights of the truck.

  Keeping his focus on Miller's midsection, so not to be blinded, Quint held the shotgun at his hip. "How the hell would I know?"

  "You took his woman." Gil walked closer, the sight of the rifle not stopping him. "Gave some bullshit story to the police when we both know she wasn't with you until after she stole his trailer."

  "I don't know what you're talking about, but if you have a brain inside your head, you'll get off my land before I pull the fucking trigger." He stepped off the porch. "Back it up, Miller."

  "Katelynn," yelled Gil. "Get out here."

  "She's not coming out." He raised the rifle to his shoulder. "You've got five seconds to get in your truck."

  "Is that what you did to my brother?" Gil stepped forward.

  Quint pulled the trigger. Divots of dirt flew up from around Miller's feet. "Four."

  "Motherfucker. Tell me where he's at, and I'll leave."

  Boom. The shotgun pellets hit Miller's boots. Gil jumped back.

  Losing patience, he aimed and pulled the trigger again. Gil's legs flew out from under him.

  "I imagine it's starting to smart." Quint aimed higher. "This will be two."

  Gil scrambled to his feet, limping and holding his crotch. "I'm going to get you, Mathews."

  Miller climbed into his truck. Quint held his index finger off the trigger. The temptation to splatter the grill of the pickup too appealing but he wanted Miller gone, not stranded on this side of the mountain.

  The truck sprayed gravel as Gil Miller left. As soon as the lights faded out of sight, the door behind Quint opened.

  Footsteps pounded across the porch and down the step. He braced as Katelynn grabbed him to stop herself from propelling forward as she moved faster in the dark than she was used to on the rocky, uneven ground.

  "Are you okay?" Her hands roamed his back, around his side, and over his chest. "Did he try and shoot you?"

  "No. I'm the one that was shooting." He lowered the shotgun at his side. "Sometimes a gun is the only way to make the men on the mountain listen."

  Her eyes widened, and she backed up. He realized his mistake as the words left his mouth.

  Her gaze darted everywhere but on him. The steam went out of his anger. The differences in their lives pushed her away from him.

  She shook her head. "No, I don't want this to be normal, and I've dragged you into..."

  "Katelynn," he murmured, stepping toward her.

  She darted past him, swinging her arms and stumbling over the uneven ground away from the cabin. Away from him.

  He jogged after her, catching her arm. "Don't go."

  "You would've shot him." She jerked against his hold

  "I was only chasing him away.

  "I killed a man," she hissed. "Nobody knows."

  Unsure of where her thoughts took her, he held on to her arms, keeping her in front of him. "I know."

  "And, look what I've put you through." Her body shook. "You're shooting at someone in your front
yard because of me."

  "Ah, Kate...it was only birdshot. It'd only kill him if I were within ten feet of him." He gathered her in his arms and cupped her head with his hand wanting to take the guilt from her. "It was never about you. A man needs to stick up for his woman, and I wanted Gil to believe that you belong to me."

  He stared up at the starry sky. His life forced him down a path he never would've imagined. From killing the guard in Mexico as a teenager to surviving on the streets trying to find a way over the border. It'd taken him two years to hitchhike his way up to Montana to meet the others while doing odd jobs.

  Over the years, he'd helped kill and bury seven men on the mountain that nobody would find, and he lived with the blame of taking someone else's life every single day. And, there were two men still out there, hunting him, that he would kill and bury if given the opportunity.

  Katelynn's problems were temporary. With the right amount of support and acceptance, she had a chance to overcome her time with Cord. He wasn't sure why, but he wanted to be the person to help her.

  He wanted to make sure she understood what she'd committed was an accident. Pure self-defense.

  In the meantime, he needed to make sure Gil Miller had no reason to follow her when she left the campground at the end of the season.

  Mountain life wasn't for her.

  She was soft and emotional; the way women were meant to be. Someone should've protected her from the Cord Millers of the world. All he could do was support her as she came to terms with what had happened.

  Once she understood no one would be looking for her, and Miller's missing person case became old news, she'd start looking for the happiness in her life again.

  Happiness she'd never find with him, and for the first time, he wished he could be enough for her.

  His life was meant to be lived alone.

  He closed his eyes and held her tighter. The way she pushed away her fears and greeted the customers with a smile had him making up excuses to stay in headquarters, just to watch her. Every night she'd spent in the tent, he'd tried to make sense of how he was feeling.

  Lately, anytime she caught him watching her, she acted like he brought something better to her life. She was no longer afraid of him.

  More and more, her tongue would come up and cover the small space between her teeth when she talked with him. He stroked her hair, feeling her heart race against him. She had no idea he found that little imperfection sexier than hell. She had a way of pressing her hand to her stomach and looking away from him as if he reminded her of everything she'd lost.

  She pulled away from him. "I'm sorry."

  He let her go, despite wanting her warm softness against him again.

  "I'll g-go inside," she whispered, scurrying toward the cabin.

  He pulled out his smokes and lit a cigarette. There would be no sleep for him. Half hard for her and filled with adrenaline after dealing with Miller's brother, he looked out at the trees. A million shadows mocked him.

  Chapter 15

  Katelynn turned toward the sink in the kitchen and bumped into Quint. She stiffened. Lately, his large cabin seemed to be shrinking. They were always bumping into each other.

  "Sorry," she mumbled

  He grunted, moving in the same direction as she tried to escape in and they came toe to toe in a dance of avoidance.

  "Oh..." She sidestepped the other way.

  That time, Quint remained standing in front of her, and she avoided touching him. When she moved away, his frown deepened.

  She sighed quietly. The last few days, he'd acted as if she was underfoot and he wanted her somewhere else.

  Glancing at him, she tried to see what he was thinking. She used to believe his beard hid all his emotions, but there were ways of telling when he was unhappy. Like now, his eyes narrowed, and the whiskers on his jawline moved. Sometimes, if he had his hair swept back, she could go by the lines on his forehead.

  She stepped up beside him. "I can wash the dishes."

  Her arm lightly brushed his, and she flinched, making sure not to come into contact with his body. It was hard to do in the kitchen. The island forced them into a tighter area, and he was a big man, used to having the place to himself.

  "Do what makes you happy." He tossed the dishcloth in the sink of suds. "I'm going to go out and have a smoke."

  She inhaled deeply, glad when the door shut. His moods were all over the place. Sweet one minute, irritated the next. She couldn't understand what set him off.

  Scrubbing the two dinner plates, she took out her frustration on the dishes. Her guilt, knowing she was probably the cause of his ups and downs, left her feeling like she needed to do more for him to take off the added stress she'd put on him.

  She couldn't take back what had happened. As much as she wished she could. Killing Cord was the biggest regret of her life, and she'd have to live with what she'd done for the rest of her life.

  Rinsing off the dishes, she put the plates, cups, and silverware in the drying rack. Quint usually left them there and used them the next day.

  She dried off her hands and straightened the kitchen. Banging came from outside, followed by a curse. Hurrying to the door, she stepped out to the porch and found Quint shaking his hand.

  Stepping up to him, she took in the problem. He'd hurt himself.

  She grabbed his wrist. "Let me look," she said softly.

  "It's just a sliver." He tried pulling away from her, but she held on.

  "No, it's a huge sliver." She pulled him inside under the light in the kitchen. "I'll be gentle. I promise."

  There was a thick one-inch long piece of wood embedded under the skin of his index finger. She ran her pinky over the spot but couldn't feel the end sticking through. Knowing there was only one way of helping, she raised his hand up to her mouth and ran her tongue along the spot.

  Quint stiffened beside her. "What the hell are you doing?"

  She raised her head. "Finding the end of the sliver."

  "With your tongue?"

  "Uh huh." She ignored him and licked again, finding the entrance point. "Okay, now hold still."

  Using her fingernails as tweezers, it took her several tries before she succeeded and slowly pulled the sliver from his finger. She held it up for him to see. "I told you it was big."

  He stared at her, ignoring what pierced him. She let go of his hand and stepped away.

  Ducking her head, she said, "You should wash your hands with soap, so it doesn't become infected."

  Quint's gaze followed her. He made no indication he was going to do what she suggested. Self-conscious, she ran her tongue over her front teeth. Her stomach fluttered. She could taste his skin on her lips.

  His eyes narrowed. Warmth flooded her face at the way he looked at her.

  She moved toward him. "Quint?"

  "I'll wash up in the bathroom." He stepped around her and walked out of the room.

  Her nipples hardened, and a flash of arousal hit her between the legs. She leaned against the counter and cradled her head. Had Quint thought she was flirting with him?

  She groaned. He probably thought she was a child compared to him...licking his finger. She rubbed her finger over her lips.

  She pushed away from the counter and walked outside before he returned. The cooler night air helped take the warmth out of her body. According to Quint's attitude, she couldn't do anything right.

  He was older. She paced the length of the porch. He probably never looked at her as an available woman.

  Not that she thought of him as boyfriend material. Though he was good looking in a rugged, sexy way. He had a great body.

  He was hot. Tall and strong, and his hands were broad and calloused. Really, he was the picture of what a manly man should look like.

  She shivered and wrapped her arms around her waist as the breeze kicked up. Why hadn't she thought things through before licking his finger? Now, look at what she was thinking.

  The door opened. She turned at the sound.

>   Quint held up his finger. "I even poured some peroxide on it, to make you happy."

  With his better mood back, her heart thrummed, and she squeezed her thighs together. "Th-that's good. You can never be too careful living out here and being around all the, um, the..."

  "Dirt?" He stepped over and sat on the railing.

  She stayed on the other side of the steps, keeping her distance. "Yeah."

  "So, where'd you learn that trick?"

  "Trick?" She leaned against the pole holding the roof over the porch.

  "Licking," he said huskily.

  "Oh." She looked out into the darkness. "My mom...I guess. Sometime in my past, when I was little, she must've done that for me, but I don't remember."

  "You don't mention your parents when you talk." He slapped his arm as if swatting a mosquito.

  "Not much to say. By the time I was ten, I was getting up for school on my own and feeding myself because they were too drunk to remember there was a child in the house." She shrugged.

  "Right. I remember you saying that." He paused. "Have you thought of asking your parents for help when summer is over, and the campground closes?"

  "No." She shook her head. "I've chosen not to have them in my life."

  "You need a place to stay until you can get back on your feet. It's the least they could do after not being there for you when you were little."

  "If I can't find a job and my money runs out, I'd rather go to a homeless shelter than stay with them. I decided when I was seventeen years old to leave and never go back to watch them die. That's what they're doing, slowly killing themselves, and they don't care enough about themselves or me to change. They've got a sickness." She exhaled, pushing her mom out of her mind. "I don't expect you to understand."

  "It's not up to me to come to terms with how you live your life." He lit a cigarette and blew the smoke out from under the roof. "You're an adult."

  Finally, he recognized that she wasn't a child.

  "I'm not trying to push you out of here. You can stay for however long it takes." He flicked the ash off his smoke over the railing.

  "Just until the end of summer," she said.

  He looked at her. "Thanks for taking care of my finger."