Right Behind Her (Bree Taggert) Page 19

  “I’m sure Kayla would loan her Pumpkin.”

  “Yeah. That could work. Anybody can ride him.” Luke perked up and was his normal self the rest of the way home.

  At the house, Bree parked and scanned the yard.

  “Did you check the horses?” Luke asked.

  “Not yet.” Bree almost told him to go into the house but changed her mind. He was nearly an adult, the barn had its own security system—and she was armed. Together, they tucked in the horses for the night, then went to the house.

  Nolan let them inside and reset the alarm. “Dana went to bed early. She’ll be up at four to take over.”

  Ladybug greeted them at the door. Vader sat on the island and waited for them to come to him. Bree scratched his head on her way through the kitchen. Luke and his bottomless appetite beelined to the pantry for a snack. Adam was asleep on the living room couch. Bree tiptoed past him. She went upstairs, showered, and changed into jeans and a T-shirt. She usually locked up her weapons at night, but tonight, she wore her sidearm in a hip holster and her backup piece on her ankle. Kayla’s bedroom door stood open a few inches. Bree peered through the gap. The light slanted across the little girl’s innocent face. She was sprawled on her back, her legs pushed to one side by the German shepherd that occupied the entire foot of the bed. Brody’s ears pricked in Bree’s direction. Then, seemingly satisfied it was only her, he settled his head on the blanket.

  Bree’s heart filled as she stared at the sleeping child and protective dog, imagining how different the night could have been if Brody hadn’t found Kayla. Bree pressed a fist to an ache in her chest. The love she felt for the kids was almost painful. She had survived numerous tragedies in her life, but she could not even contemplate anything happening to Luke or Kayla. She blocked that train of thought and walked downstairs. She tapped her brother on the shoulder. When he lifted his head, she said, “Go sleep upstairs.”

  Half-asleep, he nodded, rolled to his feet, and trudged up the steps.

  Nolan was in the kitchen doorway, a cup of coffee in his hand. “Not tired?”

  “Not sure if I can sleep. No point in wasting a perfectly good bed.”

  He nodded. “Sounds sensible.” He turned and went back into the kitchen.

  Bree followed him. Through the windows, she could see the backyard was lit with floodlights.

  “Everything is fine.” Nolan sat at the island in front of an open laptop. He’d pulled the stool around to the wrong side, so he was facing the windows and door. “I’ve done this before. Brody is on the job too. He’ll let us know if anyone is within fifty feet of this house.”

  “I know. I have control issues.” Bree walked aimlessly around the kitchen, debating on coffee. She really should try to catch a nap at least.

  “I respect that.” He worked on his laptop.

  Bree tilted her head to see his screen. “What’s that?”

  “I installed a few cameras outside.” He turned the machine to face her. Four small windows lined up on the top of his screen. A larger one occupied most of the space. “I have a view of each side of the house, and one of the barn. No one is sneaking up on us.” He clicked on a small window, and it changed places with the main one.

  “Thank you for your help.” Bree went to the fridge and opened it. She stared at the neat piles of leftover containers.

  “Happy to do it.” Nolan didn’t take his eyes off his laptop. “I brought broiled chicken and broccoli. Help yourself.”

  Nolan’s diet and exercise program were the reason he still had the body fat of a professional athlete.

  Fuck it.

  She didn’t need the body fat of a professional athlete, right? She could still clock seven-minute miles. She reached for the pasta and scooped a large helping onto a plate. “No judging.”

  Nolan lifted one hand. “Nope.”

  She warmed the bowl in the microwave. Tortellini with prosciutto and peas in a cream sauce was not light fare, but she didn’t care. Ladybug followed her into the living room and watched her eat every bite. Then Bree stretched out on the couch. Images of Kayla in the storage shed at the fair tormented her every time she closed her eyes.

  Kayla was fine. She was asleep in her bed.

  Safe.

  And there was nothing Bree wouldn’t do to keep her that way.

  Nothing.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  “Knock it off, Jake.”

  Huddled under the porch, Bree watched her dad’s eyes go small and mean. She knew that look. Something bad always happened when he looked like that.

  She pulled back into the shadows, hoping no one saw her. The cold began to work its way through her worn-thin coat and settle into her bones, but it was fear that made her knees shake.

  Mommy winced as Daddy tightened his grip on her arm. “Mind your own business, Harley. Please,” she begged.

  “Yeah,” Daddy said. “Fuck off, Harley.”

  “Why don’t you go fuck yourself, Jake?” Harley shot back. “Or are you too busy beating up on women and children? Some man you are.”

  Bree shuddered. Harley was about the only person who dared stand up to her daddy. But if Daddy got mad, it didn’t matter who made him that way. After they left, he hit Mommy. Bree used to pray to God to keep Mommy safe, but she’d given up. No matter how much she prayed, no one came. Daddy did whatever he wanted. No one ever made him stop. She touched her sore cheek, where the back of his hand had knocked her off her feet the day before.

  “You stay out of my business, Harley.” Daddy’s voice dropped to the tone that made Bree feel sick.

  “You’re a disgrace, Jake.” Harley spit in the dirt of the backyard.

  Mommy was trying hard not to cry. “Harley, please go home. You’re not helping.”

  “Why do you stay with him?” Harley yelled. “Grab your kids and get out of here.”

  Bree’s mom shook her head. Harley was making everything worse. Bree was just a kid, but she knew that Daddy would never let them go. She also knew that Mommy would never leave. There was an invisible rope that bound her to Daddy. Bree had never understood, but she knew it was there.

  Besides, if they tried to leave, Daddy would kill them.

  “Please, Harley. Just go,” Mommy begged.

  Sadness filled Bree, and something else she didn’t have a name for. Her life would never change. She was trapped here.

  “Go!” she whispered at Harley, even while she wished she belonged to him instead of her own daddy. For a second, she wanted to run and hide in his truck. Daddy wouldn’t miss her. But that would leave Mommy and Erin and baby Adam alone. Bree couldn’t do it. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t.

  “Are you sure, Mary? It doesn’t have to be this way.” Harley sounded sad.

  “Yes. Go. Please.” Silent tears slid down Mommy’s face.

  “Yeah, Harley. Go.” Daddy grinned like the wolf in Bree’s fairy-tale book.

  Harley turned and walked toward his truck. He glanced back over his shoulder. “You can call me anytime, Mary. I’ll take you and the kids away from this asshole.”

  Bree had spent many nights wanting just that very thing to happen, but she knew it wouldn’t. No matter where they went, Daddy would always find them.

  Mommy’s head went sideways. Daddy had a handful of her hair in his fist.

  “I won’t call,” Mommy shouted. “You’re making it worse, Harley.”

  “You heard her. Don’t come back here, Harley.” Daddy’s tone held more weight than his words.

  Harley’s truck drove away. Bree’s heart hurt.

  Mommy yelped as Daddy dragged her inside by the hair. Bree shivered and drew farther back under the porch. She wanted to be invisible. Bree knew she couldn’t stay under the porch forever, but she couldn’t make herself go back inside either. She tucked her knees under her coat.

  Over Bree’s head, something thudded, her mother cried, and Bree crawled out from her hiding place. She knew what was coming, how the rest of that horrible day and
night would play out, and that there wasn’t anything she could do to stop it.

  “Bree!”

  A male voice woke Bree. She bolted upright. Sweat plastered her T-shirt to her chest. Nolan stood in the doorway to the kitchen. His face was wary, as if he didn’t know what to do.

  She scanned the room, slowly recognizing the furniture and placing herself in the living room. She was not a child. She was not at her parents’ house. Sorrow clutched at her heart. In the dream, her mother and little sister had still been alive. Waking was like losing them all over again.

  She breathed and tried to slow her scrambling pulse. This wasn’t the first time she’d dreamed of that night. She’d experienced the reminder of her tragedy countless times. But it was the first time she’d relived that particular moment.

  It was the first time Harley had made an appearance.

  “You were having a bad dream,” Nolan said.

  “Yeah.” She shoved her sweaty hair off her forehead. “Thanks. I’m OK now.”

  Nolan nodded. “Let me know if you need anything.” As if he knew and respected that she wanted to be alone, he retreated to the kitchen.

  Unable to sit still, she jumped off the sofa. Her skin felt too tight, and her heart fluttered like a moth trapped in a lantern. Bree’s normal response to stress was to compartmentalize her emotions and divert her attention, usually to a case. Typically, she didn’t fidget. Instead of wasting stress energy, she diverted it to something productive. But tonight, she couldn’t clear her head. Her memories wouldn’t fall back no matter how hard she beat at them.

  Bree paced, the dream still lingering like a foul odor. Even with the details hazy in her mind, she knew that was the night her mother had died.

  And Harley had been there.

  Bree snatched her phone off the coffee table and rushed through the kitchen. She couldn’t be in the house for another minute. She was suffocating. “I’m going to take a drive.”

  “You OK?” Nolan looked over his laptop, concern in his eyes.

  “I need some air.” She fought to keep her voice steady.

  His nod was respectful. “Be careful.”

  “I will.” Bree stepped into her running shoes and went out onto the porch. She used her app to reset the alarm. Then she stood still for a few seconds, just breathing. After the cool air-conditioning in the house, outside felt warm and sticky. The humidity settled in a damp layer on the bare skin of her arms. Nighttime in the country was typically dark. There were no streetlamps. Porch lights were often miles away from each other. The moon shone in a cloudless sky, casting an eerie glow over the landscape. A symphony of crickets chirped in the meadow, and a bat flapped its way over the pasture.

  Being outside wasn’t enough. Bree needed to move. She jogged to her SUV and headed out of the driveway. She lowered the window and let the night air flood the vehicle. She passed a cow-dotted field and inhaled the scents of manure and grass. Every sight, every sound, every smell brought her rural childhood back in a barrage of images and emotions.

  When she’d moved back to Grey’s Hollow, she’d known she was returning to the past she’d avoided most of her adult life. But she hadn’t fully realized she’d mentally buried so many memories. How could she have blocked an entire person from her consciousness?

  She drove on autopilot with no conscious thought of her route, but a short while later, she stood on Matt’s doorstep. How she’d gotten there was almost scary. Inside, Greta barked, setting off an answering chorus from the kennels out back. Seconds later, Matt opened the door. He wore gym shorts, an old T-shirt, and a worried frown. His hair was mussed, and his bleary eyes told her she’d woken him. Greta stood at his side, her ears pricked forward, her expression curious.

  He blinked the sleepiness from his eyes. “Is everything all right? Did I miss your call?”

  “Everything’s fine.” Emotions lodged in her throat. “Can I come in?”

  “Yeah. Of course.” He stood aside.

  Bree walked past him. Greta followed, her tail wagging as if she were enjoying the unusual nighttime activity.

  Matt closed the door and led the way into the kitchen. He turned on the pendant lights over the island. Bree paced. She’d driven to Matt’s house, but the unyielding restlessness had followed her. She paced the gray tiles in front of the island.

  “What’s wrong?” Matt leaned a hip on the island.

  Bree didn’t know where to start. Her emotions were a hot, jumbled mess she couldn’t sort out.

  “Bree.” Matt stepped in front of her and stilled her with firm hands on her biceps. “Stop.”

  When her body stopped moving, her thoughts seemed to pick up their pace, whirling through her mind. She felt lost, numb, and disconnected. She stared up into Matt’s worried eyes. Standing next to Bree, Greta whined and pawed at her sneaker, as if the dog also sensed Bree’s distress.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  Still choked up, she shook her head.

  He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. After a few seconds of automatically resisting, she leaned into his broad chest. Her body was shaking, and it felt as if his arms were holding her together. It wasn’t fear roiling inside her, but an overwhelming onslaught of suppressed memories and emotions. They stood like that for a few minutes until she was reasonably certain she’d stopped trembling.

  “Are you all right?” he said into her ear.

  “I think so.” She leaned back to look up at him.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “No. Not yet.” But being with him made all the difference. It sounded sappy, but she felt like they were in sync, as if she didn’t need to talk to be understood. And all that made her want to be even closer to him.

  Heat sparked and caught. She stood on her toes and pressed her mouth to his. He kissed her back, his arms around her tightening. Bree jumped, wrapping her legs around his waist.

  Matt hooked his hands under her thighs to support her. Then he strode across the kitchen floor and pressed her back against the wall. His body was hard and solid against hers, and his hands were everywhere. His mouth trailed down her neck. Cool air hit her skin as he pulled at her clothes. His hands were warm on her rib cage. Bree returned the favor, tugging at the hem of his shirt and stroking his rippled abs. Heat rushed through her. She couldn’t get enough of him.

  Leaning into her, Matt ripped his shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor. Then he lifted her again and headed down a hallway. She didn’t notice they were in his bedroom until he pressed her down onto his mattress.

  As her desire grew, the painful turmoil inside her quieted. Had she ever wanted a man like this?

  Not want, she corrected herself. What she felt for Matt went way beyond sex. She’d wanted and enjoyed sex before. This was different. It was all consuming. It was . . .

  Need.

  The word gave her just a split second of pause. Needing people was an adjustment. It left her vulnerable. People you needed had the power to hurt you. Her entire world had shifted on its axis over the past six months. She’d made more connections with people in that short period of time than in her first thirty-five years.

  With him, she would never be able to separate sex from intimacy. They were intertwined. He made her happy. He made her laugh. He brought her peace.

  It was high time she stopped being a fucking coward. She needed to be grateful for being offered a full and rich life instead of turning her back on the chance for real happiness that was literally right in front of her.

  Some people were never so lucky.

  Matt lifted his mouth from hers. His eyes were dark. “Are you sure?”

  With a push to his shoulder, Bree rolled him onto his back and straddled him. She took off her sidearm and her ankle holster and set both weapons on the nightstand, along with her cell phone. Then she pulled her T-shirt over her head and tossed it over her shoulder. “I’m all in.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Matt spooned Bree’s naked bod
y. Above them, the ceiling fan turned in a lazy circle. Moonlight streamed through the window and onto the bed.

  He stroked the dragonfly tattoo that covered Bree’s shoulder. It was a gorgeous piece of work, done in brilliant blues and greens he’d never seen in a tattoo before. The dragonfly perched amid delicate vines and tiny flowers that wrapped around Bree’s shoulder. The wings were fully spread, as if it were just about to take flight. He traced the outline of a wing. He could feel the ridges and puckering of the scar under his fingertips, the dents where the dog’s teeth had sunk deep into the child’s flesh.

  The tattoo was a mural painted on a blighted building. Its beauty covered an ugly event. Through it, Bree had taken ownership of the painful past that still haunted her, the past he already knew had caused tonight’s torment.

  He kissed her shoulder. “Are you going to tell me what happened tonight?”

  She rolled onto her back and flung one hand over her head. “I had a dream. It was more of a flashback. Harley was there.” In a few sentences, she outlined the nightmare.

  Matt took a couple of seconds to digest it. “Do you remember what your dad and Harley were fighting about?”

  “No. Not yet, anyway. Who knows what I’ll remember tomorrow? All I know today is that he was there the day my mother died and that he made my father angry.”

  “Do you have any other memories of Harley?”

  “Not yet.” She rolled to her side and faced him. “How could I have forgotten Harley? He was obviously part of my family. How could I have blocked an entire person from my memories?”

  Matt ran his hand down her biceps. “Frankly, it’s a wonder you didn’t suppress more of your childhood.”

  She frowned. “I thought I’d only blocked that day and other memories directly related to it. But this couldn’t have been the only time Harley was at the house. When he was challenging my father, it felt familiar, like it had happened before. I had the sense that he was family. He talked to my father like no one else did, like only someone who’d known him since their childhood could have gotten away with.”

  “But your father didn’t go after him?”