Blood Feud (30 page)

“It was nice to meet you, Just Tess,” he said and thrust out his hand. I reached over to shake his hand. “Maybe we might run into each other again before I leave town?”

“Maybe,” I smiled, eagerly jumping to my feet when the patrol car returned.

The Sarge helped Lizzie into the back as well as another two women who’d wandered out after changing their mind about staying, hoping a ride home was still on offer. Gretel wasn’t one of them I noticed with displeasure.

He virtually pushed me into the front seat and drove away from the pub for the third time. He dropped each woman off, taking the time to drive into their property, right up to their house and then walking them to their door. Where needed, he lent a supportive arm, even going inside with them for a few minutes, either delivering them to their partner or making sure they’d be okay for the rest of the night. I watched everything he did from the warmth of the car, his last passenger. When he returned to the car for the last time, I was yawning hugely and leaning my head against the window, my eyes heavy.

At his house, he roused me from sleep and helped me out of the car. I’d taken off my high heels while I’d waited for him and dangled them from one hand as I almost fell out of the car.

“Ow! Ow! Ow!” I complained when my bare feet hit his gravel drive. “It hurts.”

Muttering under his breath, he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder, marching towards the veranda.

“Hey!” I screeched, waving my arms and legs helplessly. “You can’t do that! That’s illegal! Put me down now!”

Up the stairs he went, only depositing me on my feet again when he was ready to open the door.

“Don’t you dare ever do that again!” I said in white hot fury.

“Or what?” he asked smiling, pushing me through doorway into the hallway, his hand in the middle of my back.

“I don’t know, but I’ll think of something though. And you’re going to be really sorry when I do,” I threatened.

He laughed. “Okay, Miss Huffy. It’s time for you to go to sleep. You know where everything is.”

He stalked off down the hallway towards the kitchen. I trailed after him and leaned on the doorway tiredly, watching him as he thirstily drank a glass of tap water. He glanced at me, took a fresh glass from a cupboard and poured me a glass of cold water from the fridge, handing it to me.

“Why not tap water for me too?” I asked, gulping down the deliciously cold water.

He smiled briefly, before rinsing and placing his glass upside down on the drying rack. “Only the best for you, Tessie.”

My shoulders fell in shame and I felt a little teary. “You were so nice to all the women tonight and you’re so nice to me all the time and I’m always so horrible to you and so ungrateful.”

He took the glass off me and rinsed it, before taking hold of my shoulders and turning me around. “Go on, beautiful, off to bed before you start blubbing and telling me that you love me.”

“But you’re so nice all the time,” I insisted, my voice wobbly.

He sighed wearily. “Yep, that’s me. Mr Nice Guy. What man doesn’t love being called that?”

I stopped and slumped against the hall wall. I shut my eyes for a second, but then everything spun around and I listed to the right. “I don’t think I should have had that last drink.”

He clutched my arm to keep me upright, and laughed softly. “Or the ones before it. You need to sleep. Come on, be a good girl for me and go to bed. I’m exhausted.”

He pushed me towards the bathroom where, under his patient instruction, I brushed my teeth and washed the makeup off my face. He guided me to my room and handed me my pyjamas. My brain befuddled, I struggled to put on the clothes, hopping about on one foot, thumping into the wall repeatedly and crashing into the furniture, swearing loudly.

He knocked on the door. “Are you all right in there?”

I sat heavily on the bed, completely naked and holding the twisted t-shirt and long pants limply from one hand, on the verge of frustrated tears. “These clothes you gave me don’t work.”

I distinctly heard a shout of laughter from the other side of the door.

“Are you laughing at me?” I screeched.

“Of course not,” he soothed. “Can I come in? Are you decent?” He rattled the handle of the door.

“
No!
Don’t even think about it!” I screamed, jumping up in panic, my arms covering myself, tripping over my high heels which I’d discarded carelessly in the middle of the floor. I crashed to the ground, grazing my knees on the carpet, swearing up a storm. Angry tears trickled down my cheeks.

“Tessie, are you okay?” he asked anxiously from the other side. “I’m coming in.”

“
No!
Don’t you dare come in!” I shouted from the floor, pulling myself to my feet by holding onto the bedspread. Hiding behind the door, I opened it only far enough to thrust the clothes out to him. “Fix these for me.”

He laughed quietly to himself the whole time. “You have one leg of the pants inside out.” He sorted them out and handed them back. “Try to put them on now.”

I closed the door and after more hopping and bouncing off the wall, I managed to pull the pants on. Then I noticed the tag at the front and groaned loudly. “You didn’t fix them properly. They’re round the wrong way.”

“Take them off, turn them around and put them back on again,” he said patiently through his quiet laughter.

“Why is everything so hard tonight?” I moaned as I took them off and put them on the right way.

“I can’t imagine,” he chuckled and handed the t-shirt into me through the gap in the door. “Now remember, your head goes through the large hole, not one of the two small holes. They’re for your arms.”

I finally managed to dress myself and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to do up my knife sheath.

“Can I come in now?”

“Yes,” I mumbled, still struggling with the clasp of the sheath.

“Do you need a hand with that?”

“Yes, please.”

I flopped back onto his very comfy queen-sized guest bed while he sat on the bed and fastened my sheath around my thigh for me. While he was occupied, I studied his face. When we’d first met I hadn’t thought he was particularly good-looking as he’d seemed unapproachable, his features stern. But now I could appreciate why a lot of women found him attractive, even with the bruising around his nose.

A small crease appeared between his nicely shaped black eyebrows and he pursed his lips slightly as he concentrated.

“Where do you have the knife while you’re sleeping?”

“Huh?” I asked, distracted by the feel of his fingers grazing my thigh. There weren’t too many men in my life who’d ever touched me so intimately. My heart began to hammer.

When his fingers brushed over my inner thigh again, sudden desire jolted through my body, shocking me and making me gasp. He stopped what he was doing and raised his eyes to mine. I pressed my lips together tightly. That forehead crease deepened for a few seconds before he returned to his task.

I focussed on his hands, unable to stop myself from wondering what it would feel like to have those strong masculine fingers stroking my naked back or caressing my breasts. What would those lips feel like kissing my neck and my shoulders? Would his eyes change colour to that dark stormy ocean blue when he was aroused? Would he tease or be a serious lover, or would he tease until the lovemaking became too intensely ardent to be anything but serious?

Oh God! Where the hell was Jakey when I needed him?

Jakey’s never around when you need him
, taunted some voice from deep inside my mind. Where did that thought come from and why was I thinking about the Sarge in such a way? My thoughts jumbled in my mind, but they were wrong and disloyal and confusing.

You’re not thinking straight
, I reassured myself.
It’s the alcohol doing the thinking.

In vino veritas
, mocked that other voice.

Shut up!
I screamed at it silently. I jammed my eyes shut and blocked that traitorous voice from my mind.

The Sarge didn’t respond to me immediately, his attention all on the sheath. “Um, your knife? Where do you position it while you sleep?” I wasn’t sure if his voice was a little hoarser than normal or if I only imagined it.

“On the front of my leg because I sleep on my side or back,” I managed to squeak, eyes still firmly closed.

His fingers touched me again as he adjusted the sheath. He cleared his throat. “How’s that?” he asked.

“A little to the right, please.”

“How can you tell? You have your eyes shut.” I could hear the smile in his voice.

“I can feel it.” I didn’t want to look at him; I didn’t want to think about him.

He moved my knife to the right and then his weight on the bed shifted. “Tessie, look at me.”

I opened my eyes to find he’d moved closer and now had a hand either side of my head, leaning down over me so our noses almost touched. For a heart-stopping moment, I thought he was going to kiss me and I wasn’t sure what I would do.

But of course he didn’t. And I didn’t know if the emotion that flooded me when I realised that was relief or disappointment.

“I want you to keep your door completely open tonight. You’re in no state to look after yourself and I want to be able to hear everything just in case Red Bycraft decides to pay a visit. Okay?”

I nodded, eyes glued to his.

“I would have been happier sleeping in this room with you, but I imagine that would cause you all sorts of problems with Jake.”

I nodded again fervently. It sure would.

He stared down at me for a few moments, searching my face, that crease appearing again between his eyebrows. “Are you okay? You seem a little . . . agitated.”

“I’m okay,” I whispered.

After further puzzled scrutiny of my features, he stood up and I scrabbled under the blankets, worried that my inappropriate thoughts showed too clearly on my face.

“How about we get these out of the way?” he said, moving my shoes to the side of the room. He picked up my equally carelessly discarded dress, handbag and underwear and draped them over the arm of the room’s chair. He inspected the room, trying to spot any other hazards.

“Night, Tessie,” he said softly and his warm lips pressed on my forehead.

“That’s a boring kiss,” I mumbled without thinking, muffled in the blankets with only my face poking out. My eyes were closed and I was half-asleep, brain fully occupied with trying to stop everything from spinning around.

He laughed softly. “You want me to kiss you like Jake would?”

My eyes shot open. “No . . . yes . . . wait, no.
No!
Um . . . what was the question?”

He laughed again. “Goodnight, Tessie.”

“Night, Finn.”

He paused at the door “What did you say?”

“I said ‘night, Sarge’.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.”

“You said Finn.”

“I didn’t.”

“I heard you.”

“You didn’t because I didn’t say it.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Whatever. Go away, I’m tired.”

“You did say it.”

“Who cares if I did or didn’t?”

“Me, that’s who.”

“Well, you’re the only one.” I rolled on my side to face the door and one of my pillows fell off the bed. “Aw.”

He walked over and picked it up, handing it back to me. I clutched it to my chest.

“Sarge?”

“Mmm?”

“You called me beautiful before.”

“Did I?”

“Yes, you did.”

“Maybe I did and maybe I didn’t,” he teased with a smile, looking down at me.

“You did,” I insisted tiredly. “Why?”

He strolled to the doorway again and turned off the light. I could see his silhouette but not his face.

“Because you are,” he said and turned and left.

Chapter 20

With the comforting softness of the pillow clasped in my arms, I quickly drifted off to sleep. But during the night I dreamed.

I was
in the public bar at The Flying Pigs, standing on the stage, about to commence a karaoke song. The crowd had called out for me by name, so I felt pretty special and appreciated, excited at the opportunity to entertain others doing something I loved.

The lighting was unusually dim in the
room, my audience barely visible, nothing but an amorphous mass moving and chatting below me. Only one person was distinguishable through the gloom �� the Sarge. He stood off to the side, not mingling with the others, his arms crossed and his eyes wary.

The music start
ed and I sang. About halfway through the tune, I noticed the crowd gradually shifting closer to the stage. Bodies pressed up against the edge, hands reaching out to touch my ankles and feet.

I stopped singing
, disconcerted, and stepped backwards, away from the grasping hands.

“
Hey, back off everyone. It’s getting a little jam-packed around here
,” I said nervously.