She Can Run Page 14

  Her thoughts returned to the way his arms had felt around her cold body the night before: strong, reassuring, protective. His presence had kept her nightmares at bay. She hadn’t slept that deeply in years. Her heart told her this man would not betray her.

  Her heart?

  She jerked her gaze away. The quick movement of her eyeballs sent pain flashing through her temples.

  What was wrong with her? The knock on the head must have killed too many brain cells to process rational thought. She’d had two serious relationships in her life. One had ended in death, leaving her with a broken heart she’d never get over. The second man she’d trusted had beaten the hell out of her, then imprisoned and tried to kill her. She could not rely on her instincts. Her heart was too easily deceived. Her heart was a total chump.

  Jack’s forehead wrinkled as he registered her withdrawal. Disappointment crossed his face. She could only hope he’d attribute last night’s weakness to pain and disorientation rather than the deep attraction she felt for him.

  His hand slid off her shoulder, leaving her cold in its absence. He took a step back and winced as he reached for the counter for support. “What would you like to eat?”

  Beth’s stomach churned, either from the headache or emotional turmoil. Or both. “I’m not really hungry.”

  “Head hurt?” he asked, brows furrowed.

  At her nod, he moved to the counter and slid a piece of bread into the toaster. “Let’s see if you can get a piece of toast down. Then I’ll get you some aspirin.”

  With an elbow on the table, she rested her forehead in her hand—anything to keep her eyes off Jack. She didn’t trust herself to remain aloof when her body responded to him without consulting with her brain.

  A bark drew her gaze to the door. Henry stood on the patio. The second Jack let him in, he trotted to Beth’s chair, rested his massive head in her lap, and whined. She stroked his head.

  “Where are the kids?” She steeled her spine and turned to Jack. She needn’t have worried. He’d erased all traces of desire from his face.

  “Mrs. Harris took them down to the pool.” He opened the fridge and poured a glass of juice. “Henry was with them. I wonder what brought him back? He must have been hot.”

  Jack set the toast and juice on the table, along with a bottle of aspirin.

  As Beth began to eat, Henry lowered his body to the floor and rested his head on her bare feet with a sigh. Although her foot fell asleep, Beth left the dog’s head right where it was as she drank her juice and swallowed two tablets.

  “If you need something stronger for pain, I can call Quinn. Let me know.”

  Beth’s stomach turned. “No. Nothing stronger. I don’t like to take medication.”

  Jack shrugged. “OK. The option’s there if you change your mind.”

  “I won’t.”

  Jack cleared her dishes from the table and placed a first-aid kit on the counter. “Your bandages need to be changed.” He unfolded a yellow carbon copy of her discharge instructions. After settling reading glasses on his nose, he reviewed Quinn’s notes before unraveling the gauze from her elbow. She steeled herself for his touch, but the brush of his fingers on her skin still sent tremors up her arm.

  He paused. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

  Beth shook her head but remained silent. What could she say? I know I look and feel like a corpse right now, plus I’m a complete emotional wreck, but I’d still like to jump your bones? Hardly seemed appropriate.

  Jack continued, gently blotting her stitches with antiseptic and applying antibiotic cream before bandaging the wound. Holding her chin still with one hand, he repeated the process with the cut on her temple. While he worked, his thumb gently stroked her jaw. The effect was nearly hypnotic, and Beth felt her body relax.

  Mrs. Harris’s muffled voice came through the French doors, followed by a high-pitched little girl laugh.

  Jack released her chin and sat back. Beth exhaled as space opened up between their bodies. Jack placed a hand on her forearm. Her breath caught as he looked straight into her eyes. “You’ll tell me if you feel worse, right? Any dizziness, nausea, or confusion? Since you insisted on leaving the hospital without that CAT scan last night, we have nothing else to go on but your symptoms. So I need to be able to trust you on this.” He nodded toward the French doors. Mrs. Harris and the kids were stepping onto the patio. “For their sake.”

  With a silent prayer that she’d heal quickly, she nodded. “OK.”

  He released her arm, but not before she caught a glimmer of something new in his eyes. Could his feelings for her run deeper than mere desire? A tiny bud of fear bloomed inside her. If that were the case, could she handle it? Would she ever be able to handle a real relationship again, or was she just too damaged? And if she couldn’t deal, what would that do to Jack?

  She closed her eyes. What would she do after she’d recovered? If she stayed here much longer, there’d be no denying the powerful bond developing between them.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The thick fog cleared, rolling away over the hills like smoke in the wind. The green and dripping forest came into focus. The woods were silent except for the babbling of water over rock and the intermittent plop of moisture from the canopy. Mist floated along the muddy bank of a small stream.

  In the shallows near the edge, a woman’s naked body lay facedown, caught in the exposed roots of an overhanging tree. From the waist down, she was submerged beneath the knee-deep water. One slim hand rested upon a bluish rock, as if she were reaching for dry ground. Long dark hair swirled in a patch of rotten leaves and algae. Insects buzzed, feasting on the grayish-green skin. On the gentle current, a leaf floated off the curve of a shoulder, revealing the small butterfly tattoo that decorated the bloated skin.

  The shrill neigh of a horse woke James.

  He bolted upright from a deep sleep.

  His lungs heaved. Soaked with perspiration, his white under-shirt clung to his skin like a clammy hand. Heart slamming inside his chest, he glanced around the hotel room. The only sound was the faint hum of the ceiling fan. No horse. No woods. No creek.

  More importantly—no dead body.

  He wiped a shaky hand across his face. Swinging his feet off the bed, he reached for the bottle of water on the nightstand and took a long swallow. He gave himself two minutes, just enough time for his pulse to return to normal without losing the connection. Then he gritted his teeth and pulled the image back into his mind. James concentrated on the details to blot out the stomach-clenching horror.

  Beth doesn’t have a tattoo. It’s not her.

  Relief clogged his throat as the image dissipated. He exhaled hard and finished the bottle of water.

  From the back the dead woman bore a superficial resemblance to Beth. Caucasian, slim bone structure, long brown hair. But the tattoo was the key. He’d seen Beth in plenty of tank tops. He’d have noticed a purple butterfly on the back of her shoulder.

  But then, why was he getting a vision of a dead woman? It didn’t make sense. One, he didn’t normally see people who were already dead. His visions normally tapped into the violence that caused their deaths. Once they were gone, for him that was it. Two, he’d never dreamed about a stranger before. Who was she? She must be connected to him somehow. Without an image of her face, and given the condition of the body, he’d never know.

  Hell, it could have just been a damned dream. It’d never happened before, but what the fuck? Shit happened. People dreamed of things that didn’t have horrific consequences all the time. Other people. Normal people.

  Resigned to the bizarre nature of his life, James headed for a hot shower. A few minutes later, after ordering coffee and breakfast through room service, he fired up his laptop and began to scroll through the hundreds of images he’d shot of Congressman Baker.

  Instinct told him he’d missed something.

  He hit the slideshow button, sat back, and watched the pictures flash onto the screen one by one. The photos of
Baker’s speech at the DC park popped up last. James sat up straighter. It was here. He knew it. What was he missing?

  He set the album from that day to run in a continuous loop and cleared his head, letting the images roll over him. Room service delivered his breakfast. He was through his omelet and half a pot of coffee before he spotted it.

  There. James hit the stop button. His face pulled into a grin. Now he knew the bastard’s secret.

  He hadn’t caught it because he’d been looking at the wrong person.

  Now all he had to do was verify his suspicion.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “Did you hear about the accident over at the O’Malley place?”

  Over the clink of silverware on plates, the name caught his attention. He paused, a fork full of eggs halfway to his mouth. Focusing on the conversation in the booth across the aisle, he resumed eating. Two women, both in their fifties, sipped coffee while they waited for their order. He’d seen them both before around town but couldn’t recall their names. Only young, beautiful women caught his attention.

  The skinnier woman continued, “My sister was at the hospital last night with her daughter. Shannon sprained her wrist at gymnastics. They saw Danny O’Malley’s nephew, the one who inherited everything, in the ER with some woman who works for him.”

  His heart rate accelerated. He swallowed but didn’t even taste the omelet.

  “His name is John or Jack, I think.” Chubs fanned her face with a menu. “As my daughter would say, he’s a hottie.”

  He clenched his jaw as the old bats discussed O’Malley’s physical attributes. He stabbed a piece of sausage and sliced it through with one stroke of the knife.

  Get on with it, bitch!

  Skinny sighed. “Not that it matters. According to my sister, he’s got a thing for this woman. Vicky could tell just by the way he treated her. Anyway, seems she fell out of the barn loft…”

  He listened until the women moved onto another topic.

  Such was life in a small town. Everybody knows everything about everyone—or so they thought. He’d lived here all his life, and no one would ever suspect what he’d done. Or how many times he’d done it.

  Calmed by the memories, he finished his hash browns and buttered a slice of toast.

  Beth’s injuries presented a problem. If the old bitch was right, he doubted Beth would be off the estate much in the next week or so. He was too smart to try to grab here there. As an ex-cop, O’Malley’d be armed. And suspicious.

  Disappointment crushed him. He’d been so excited. Beth didn’t go out much, but he could count on her two early-morning trips into town to run errands each week, usually Tuesday and Friday.

  Today was Wednesday. His playroom was all ready. He’d been hoping, planning on snatching her this week, or next at the latest. How hard would it be to wait another two or three weeks? His fingers tightened on his fork.

  No way could he wait that long. He’d need a substitute to tide him over until Beth was ready.

  But who? How should he choose? After Amelia, he’d never be satisfied with a whore again. He needed a worthy opponent. Should he whip out his dartboard again? Or maybe find another way to liven up the game?

  The waitress drifted past his table, stopping to fill his coffee cup and ask him if he needed anything.

  “No thanks, Mary Ann,” he answered.

  She smiled and ripped his check off her pad. Mary Ann was dark-haired and petite, with a wide smile and a trim figure.

  He stood and reached into his pocket for his wallet, tossing a few bills on the table for a tip. Business was slow this late on a weekday morning, and there wasn’t a hostess on duty. In the diner’s tiled vestibule, Mary Ann rang him up at the cash register.

  He’d known her casually for a long time. Why hadn’t he noticed how pretty she was before? Not beautiful, just wholesome and fresh-faced. He handed her a twenty. “You look nice this morning.”

  Dropping her head shyly, she blushed and handed over his change. “You have a good day.”

  “I will. Thanks.” He exited the diner with a new spring in his step.

  Mary Ann was lovely.

  He wondered how loudly she could scream.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “It’ll be fun.” Jack rose from the table, crossed the sunny kitchen, and emptied the coffee pot into his mug. It was only his second cup this morning, so Beth must have consumed three-quarters of the pot already. He glanced at the digital clock on the microwave’s black keypad. Seven a.m. She’d already fed the horses. His glanced at the kitchen sink. No sign she’d fed herself. No surprise.

  Beth pressed the fingertips of one hand to her forehead and rubbed them in a circle. Again. “It’s not that I don’t think it’ll be fun. But they’re your family. I don’t want to intrude.”

  “Headache?”

  Beth’s hand froze. “Just a little. It’s OK.”

  Jack didn’t comment. She was the world’s worst liar. If her skin got any paler or the circles under her eyes any darker, she’d be able to pass for a vampire. She’d been working on the bookkeeping late every night and rising early to care for the horses. Pushing herself was taking its toll, especially since it had only been five days since she’d fallen. Pain shadowed her face, and she’d lost weight from a frame that couldn’t spare an ounce.

  Although Jack had framed his invitation to Quinn’s house as a social affair, in truth he wanted his cousin to check on Beth’s recovery. Nothing short of duct tape and chloroform would get her back to the hospital, but someone needed to take a look at her, if only for Jack’s peace of mind. She ignored his suggestions to slow down and rest. “It’s only a barbecue. It’d be good for Ben and Katie to be with other kids.”

  “I don’t know, Jack.” Beth bit her lower lip, a gesture he tried like hell not to find sexy. Not working, despite her battered state.

  “Come on, Beth.” He persisted, counting on the fact that she was too tired to argue with him. “They don’t bite. Well, not anymore. Mark went through a biting stage when he was little. He mostly bit Steven, though, who deserved it. So, I’m not sure it counts. Besides, the kids deserve to have some fun, don’t they?”

  After Ben’s revelation at the hospital, Jack understood why she was reluctant to take the children out in public, but they’d be safe at his cousin’s house. Of course, he couldn’t use that argument, because he wasn’t supposed to know they were in danger.

  Tangled webs and all the shit that went along with them were giving him a headache.

  As he expected, she relented. Jack felt a twinge of guilt, which he shook off. He was doing the right thing. So why did he feel like such a prick?

  That afternoon, Jack turned the SUV into the long driveway of Quinn’s yellow and white farmhouse. A mix of clover, grass, and weeds flanked the gravel on both sides. Parking behind Quinn’s minivan, he went to the rear of the vehicle to release Henry while Beth and the kids climbed out. Ben handed him the cane that he’d stowed in the back seat. Baskets and pots of bright flowers hung on the porch. Two bikes had been left near the base of the wide steps, and a pair of small, muddy cleats stood drying on the porch.

  Jack stole a glance at Beth as she closed the car door. Instead of the jeans she normally lived in, her slim body was draped in a khaki skirt and fitted polo. Now that he thought about it, he’d never seen her in anything other than jeans, which was odd, considering the heat. He wasn’t complaining. Most of her jeans were so old and worn they cupped her ass like hands, but this snug skirt gave him a new appreciation for her bare, toned legs.

  With Beth and the children close behind him, Jack pushed open the squeaky screen door and led the way toward the kitchen in the back of the house. Henry bolted down the hallway. Something metal crashed to the floor.

  “Ouch! Get down, Henry. Good boy. Go on outside and see the kids.”

  As Jack entered the sunny room, his cousins’ wives were pushing the big dog out the kitchen door. Henry resisted, sitting back on his haunches like a m
ule until he heard Quinn’s boys yelling out in the yard. Then the dog shot through the doorway with a happy bark.

  “If you taught your dog not to steal food from the counters, I wouldn’t have to give him the boot.” Quinn’s wife, Claire, greeted Jack with a kiss, then smoothed her short blond hair away from her face.

  Jack introduced Beth and the kids to Claire and Amanda, Sean’s wife.

  “Hi, Beth. It’s nice to meet you. Ben, the boys are out back. Katie, Sam and Ally are playing in the living room. I’ll take you in there if you want.” Either Claire had universal Mommy appeal or Katie was coming out of her shell. The child took Claire’s hand and followed her down the hall without hesitation.

  “Do you want to sit down?” Amanda’s eyes lingered on Beth’s face, and Jack cringed. Amanda’s face, along with the rest of her, belonged on a magazine cover, which emphasized Beth’s fresh-from-the-boxing-ring appearance.

  Beth gave her head a quick shake. “No, I’m OK. It looks worse than it feels.”

  Christ, he hoped so.

  Sean stepped through the back door, slapped Jack on the shoulder, and greeted Beth with “Man, that’s gotta hurt. Can I get you a beer?” Leave it to Sean to not only point out the elephant in the corner but to trot the fucker out for inspection. Subtlety wasn’t his cousin’s forte.

  “No beer for the lady with the concussion, you idiot.” Quinn came through the back door and smacked his brother on the back of his head. Sean was large and lethal, but he was still the younger brother. “Iced tea, lemonade, soda, yes. Alcohol, no.” Quinn shook his head. “Hi, Beth. How’s the head?”

  “It’s fine. Thanks.” Each time she said it, her voice grew weaker. She raised her chin to answer, squinting at the late-afternoon sun slanting through the windows.

  Leaning on his cane, Jack took her by the arm with his free hand and led her out to the patio. “Come on outside. The boys are playing ball.” He deposited her in a cushioned chair then returned to the kitchen for two glasses of lemonade. Returning, he handed one to Beth. Her face was turned to the field where Ben was playing catch with Steven and Mark.