Lonestar Sanctuary (28 page)

Did they dare have a real marriage? Staring into her husband's
face, Allie thought she might risk it.

SOME PROTECTOR HE WAS. RICK TUCKED BETSY INTO BED, THEN CAME
downstairs and watched his wife's face in the glow of lamplight as the
group played Yahtzee after dinner. Someone had tried to hurt her
twice now, and he'd had to stand back and watch it happen.

It was hard to fight a phantom. He'd called Brendan several times,
but his friend hadn't turned up anything yet on Mark Haskell or Ted
Rediger. Too busy, he said. Tomorrow, when Rick went to Alpine, he'd
stop at the library and use the computer to see what he could find out
on his own.

Remembering the way she'd kissed him today heated his blood. He
was falling for her in a big way, and it was enough to make him want
to run. What if he failed her? He hadn't done good by her so far. The
responsibility made him lick his lips and look toward the wine cabinet.

Elijah had always refused to get rid of the liquor. He said Rick
would never conquer the need if he wasn't faced with making the
right choice every day, but Rick wasn't sure he agreed with that. It
would be so much easier to have temptation out of the way.

Elijah was gone now. There was no reason to leave the stuff there. He could clean out that cabinet once and for all. Pour the liquor down
the sink and smash the bottles. Tonight, after everyone was in bed,
he'd do just that.

His gaze went back to Allie's face. Battered and bruised though she
looked, she was a temptation he didn't think he could resist much
longer.

The thought of it was driving him crazy. He stood and stretched.
"I think I'll go to town for an ice-cream sundae. Want to come, Allie?"

"Sure. I'm getting stiff sitting here,"Allie said. "I need to walk some
of the pain out of my muscles." She held her hand up for him to haul her
up. She winced as she maneuvered out of the chair. "I can't sit here
much longer or I won't be able to move tomorrow." She put her hand
on his arm and stared up at him with an appeal in her eyes.

When had his willingness to love begun to turn into the real thing?
He'd tried Grady's advice, and by golly, the guy had been right. Love
was about the action of loving. What a weird truth to discover.

He hadn't even been attracted to her when she'd first come here,
and now his pulse soared like a bald eagle when he caught a whiff of
her shampoo.

"Keep an ear out for Betsy,"Allie told Fern, who nodded.

They went toward the door, Allie limping a little. He tucked her
hand in the crook of his elbow, then grabbed a sweater from a hook by
the door as they went past and slipped it around her. The soft glance
of gratitude in her eyes made his palms grow sweaty.

They stepped out into the dark night, illuminated only by the stars.
Only a sliver of moon showed. The night air was rich with the scents
of the ranch: sage, creosote, hay, and a hint of horse on the wind blowing past the barn.

He helped Allie down the steps. "I'll bring the truck around. Wait here by the porch." He jogged to the vehicle and drove to the base of
the steps. She slipped into the cab before he had a chance to get out
and help her.

"I finished my paperwork for our next counseling session," she said
once they'd started to town. "How are you coming?"

"Haven't had a chance." He knew his voice was a little sharp when
he saw her flinch.

There was no answer from her at first. "Is is there something
you're not wanting to tell me?" she asked finally. "I hope you know
whatever it is, it can't be any worse than the mess I've made of my
life."

Tell her. The prompting dried his mouth. No way could he spill it. Not
when they were just starting to get into a comfortable relationship.

"Nothing important," he said. "We'll get to know one another better every day."

Allie nodded. "I still can't believe Bets is talking. I guess you were
right after all." She turned and looked out into the dark night. "Maybe
I was babying her too much."

The tension drained from his neck and shoulders at the passing of
the dangerous topic. "No maybe about it."

She stiffened. "I want you to quit tucking her into bed at night.
It's ... dangerous. She is beginning to get too attached to you."

His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. "Kids can never have
too much love, Allie.You're trying to deprive Betsy of the most important thing in life. Jon's gone. He'll never be able to pull her up on his
lap or read her a story." He knew his words were harsh, but she had to
understand. "Look, I loved Jon too. And I admit it took me a while to
get past the thought that I was taking his place. But he's not here to fill
it. I am. And I'm going to."

"She can't forget Jon," she fired back. "I don't want anyone to take
his place."

His inclination was to let go of his temper, but he took a tighter
grip on it instead. "I know you don't want her to be hurt. Neither do
I. You should know that. She needs me, and so do you."

"I think she's already forgetting," she whispered, her voice desolate.

"Allie, she's five years old. How much do you remember from
when you were five? But at least both of us loved Jon. We'll talk about
him, about what a great man he was. That's better than if I were jealous of him and didn't hold him up in her eyes."

She finally nodded, and her shoulder slumped against the door. "I
guess it's inevitable."

They reached the drugstore and stepped inside to a nearly deserted
space filled with the sweet smells of chocolate, whipped cream, and
butterscotch. Nothing much was said over their ice cream. Rick knew
she was mulling over what he'd said. Maybe she'd finally quit challenging him on every action.

After licking the last of his hot-fudge sundae from the spoon, he paid
the bill and held the door open for her. A warm breeze blew across his
face, and he inhaled the scent of the roses blooming along the tree lawn.

A sharp report echoed against the buildings, followed by a zip past
his ear. "Look out!" Something stung the side of his face. He bore her
to the ground and covered her with his own body. "Someone's shooting at us."

The night sounds of tree frogs and crickets went silent, then
resumed. Rick strained to hear anything else: the footfall of someone
walking their way, the harsh breath of someone running. There was
nothing but the sound of the wind and the rumble of a truck passing
them on the street.

Glancing behind him, he saw the lights go out in the drugstore.
The door was probably locked. The rest of the businesses had closed
down when the streets were rolled up at five. "We've got to make a
run for the truck," he whispered in her ear.

She nodded. He rolled off her, bounded to his feet, then yanked
her up and ran toward the vehicle. No rifle crack sounded, no more
bullets zinged past his ears. He flung open the door and shoved her
inside before running around to the driver's side.

"Lock your door!" He slammed the door and locked it, then
started the truck. He tossed her the cell phone. "Call the sheriff." He
rattled off the number to her.

She nodded and punched in the number. Listening to her tell the
sheriff's office what happened, he began to shake at the close call.

The sheriff was waiting at the curb when Rick pulled the truck up
and stopped.

By the time he and Allie recounted what had happened, it was
nearly eleven. A deputy followed them home. He waved his thanks to
the deputy and ran with Allie to the house.

Locking the door behind them, he left Allie in the living room to
explain what happened while he made a beeline for the office. He
went to the gun cabinet and stared at the weapons. He'd sworn never
to take one in his hand again. The dark, frightened eyes of the boy he'd
shot accidentally in Baghdad swam in his memory. Guilt made him
slam the door again.

The boys congregated in the doorway. "Cool, dude, can I have
some heat?" Leon asked.

"Not on your life." Rick peered out the window into the darkness.

Who was in his neighborhood? And what was his game?

AFTER CHANGING INTO HER PAJAMAS, ALLIE SAT IN HER BEDROOM ROCKER
and watched her daughter sleep.

The thought of going to sleep after someone shot at them made
Allie shudder. He'd been in the house once, at least long enough to
slip a note under her door. What if he got in again?

She should have brought a gun up here with her. The madman
wasn't going to hurt her daughter. Allie pondered this. Maybe the
stalker wouldn't stoop so low as to hurt a child. He'd had several opportunities to harm Betsy but didn't. The realization only vaguely comforted her.

The man's attacks seemed relentless. If she only knew why he hated
her. All Rick's efforts to identify him led only to dead ends. Maybe that's the way it was supposed to be though. Maybe God had put her
in this position so she had to face this danger herself and deal with it.
Nothing could happen to her that didn't first pass through God's
hands. She had to remember that.

He'd protected them so far.

Her gaze lingered on Betsy. Rick wanted to be her daddy. Did she
dare allow it? Her eyes burned, and she rubbed the moisture from her
lashes. Rick was right Jon was gone. It wasn't fair to Betsy to deprive
her of love. But it was so hard to give up on Jon's memory.

A peck came at the door, and she got up from the chair. It had to
be Rick, and the way her blood pressure rose made her shake her head
at her silly self. She was thirty-two, not seventeen.

When she flung open the door and looked into his eyes, she felt
seventeen and giddy though. How did he manage to do that to her?
She felt anything but a sedate widow when she was around him.

"Everything's buttoned down," he whispered, stepping into the
room. "But I don't want the two of you to stay here alone. I've moved
a cot into my room, and we'll all stay there."Without waiting for her
to agree, he stepped past her and lifted Betsy from the bed. She stirred
but didn't awaken.

Allie's pulse hammered in her throat. There was only one bed in
his room, and he'd brought in one cot. Did he mean to sleep on it?

She trailed down the hall behind him to his bedroom. Her gaze
fastened on the big bed that dwarfed the room. She'd made up the bed
that morning when she changed all the sheets in the house and washed
them, but she'd never expected to sleep there tonight.

Rick laid Betsy on the cot and pulled the covers around her. After
pressing a kiss to her forehead, he backed away and turned to face
Allie. "I'll sleep on the floor. There was only room for one cot."

It was his bed. It didn't seem fair he should sleep on the hard floor.
"I'll sleep there," she said. "Where are the blankets?"

His chin came out. "No way I'm letting my wife sleep on the
floor."

His wife. The words started a warm feeling in the pit of her being.
She glanced at the bed. "The bed is big. If you stay on your side, I'll
promise to stay on mine."

His lips twitched. "What if I don't want you to stay on your side?"

Her laugh felt a little hollow. "We could put a board between us."

The glint of laughter in his eyes dimmed. "Not necessary. I'll be
good "

"Okay," she said, not yet ready to explore what he meant by his
comments.

Avoiding his gaze, she went around to the left side and pulled back
the quilt and top sheet. A picture of a young boy sat on the stand
beside the bed. "Who's this? He looks a little like you."

"My brother, Chad." His clipped tone told her he didn't want to
talk about it.

Allie let it drop. "I hope I'm not taking your favorite side."

"Nope. I always sleep on the other edge." He went to the dresser
and took out pajama bottoms, then disappeared through the door. A
moment later, the bathroom door down the hall closed.

Allie slipped between the sheets. She rolled onto her side with her
back to the center of the mattress. It was going to be impossible to
make herself breathe like she was asleep when all she wanted to do
was gulp in air through her tight throat.

Her eyes slammed shut when she heard him come back into the
room. The bed springs groaned when his bulk settled onto the mattress. The covers tugged, and he settled into the bed. The musky scent of his presence filled her senses, and soon the warmth of his body
drifted toward her as well.

Her tension began to ease when he made no attempt to roll
toward her and embrace her. The day's events had worn on her. Every
muscle in her body ached.

"Allie?" Rick's whisper came near her ear.

Her eyes flew open, and she rolled to the center to find herself
nose to nose with Rick, though in the darkness, she could barely make
out his features. "What's wrong?"

"I wondered if you'd like me to rub your back. Are you sore?"

"Yes, but you're tired too. Rest is the best thing" She didn't dare
let him touch her. Her responses to him were too unpredictable.

Or maybe totally predictable.

"I like having you here," he whispered. His lips brushed hers.

Before she could respond, he rolled over, presenting his back to
her. She touched her fingers to her lips and closed her eyes.

Though she'd been determined not to trust her heart again, he was
battering down her defenses.

It was after three the last time she looked at the clock, then the
sun was streaming in her eyes. Allie blinked against the brightness. She
tried to move and found something heavy lying across her waist.

It was Rick's arm.

She stared in fascination at the thick black hair growing on his
skin. Her gaze traveled up his arm to his strong shoulders, bare above
his pajama bottoms. The dark stubble on his face made him all the
more appealing.

His eyes were closed, and she let herself look to her heart's content. Always before she'd been afraid he'd notice her studying him. His
hair curled a little where it touched his neck. He needed a trim, but the extra length combined with the morning beard made him look a
bit like an outlaw. And only inches away. He'd rolled onto his side with
his arm flung over her. If she leaned forward a few inches, she could
kiss him.