Reckless Hours: a Romantic Suspense novel (Heroes of Providence Book 3) (14 page)

If it weren’t such a serious situation, Dylan would actually have laughed. Cash was better at ruffling feathers to get the truth than anyone he knew. He not only excelled at it, he took pleasure in it.

Cash’s disappearance was somehow connected to Serena and Tammie. Dylan was sure of it. The tough part would be figuring out how and why.

Traffic was still bumper-to-bumper when Dylan got to the street. He weaved in between a car and a truck filled with furniture and darted into one of the aisles, then backtracked until he saw Tammie on a path deep into the field.

She was walking with John Beaumont, and she was laughing. Something Beaumont had said to her had her throwing her head back and placing her hand over her heart as if she couldn’t breathe from laughing so hard. Dylan stood, rooted in place, just watching her face. She looked so carefree. So beautiful, as if none of the tension of heartbreak that had touched her life had ever happened to her. He watched how the light from the sun brought out gold and red highlights in her dark hair.

Tammie was a beautiful woman, with her shiny hair, high cheekbones, and eyes that were lit up like fire. For a moment, the realization that he’d noticed so very much about Tammie in the short time they’d known each other took Dylan off guard. What was harder to ignore, was the way he felt when he was with her. The way his pulse kicked into overdrive when she looked up at him.

Tammie cocked her head to one side and waved to Beaumont, then walked in the other direction away from Dylan. Trucks with furniture and crates lined both sides of the lane, making it difficult to pass. He didn’t want to lose her in the crowd, so he sprinted.

“Tammie!” he called out to her. She turned around and stopped. She smiled when she saw him, her face like sunshine. What a change from this morning, when she’d been consumed with anxiety talking about her parents. It was as if just walking out into the fresh air and being with people had been enough to bring happiness back to her, help her forget how troubled she was.

Dylan was happy for her. And he hated thinking of how learning that her father had been the pastor involved in the town’s scandal was going to distress her again.

Tammie passed behind a large flatbed truck filled with crates. Maynard Burdett climbed into the back of it with a man Dylan didn’t recognize. He did, however, recognize that Maynard was going to great lengths to impress the man.

Dylan was only half paying attention to Maynard talking to the man. Instead, he kept his eye on the truck until Tammie disappeared around the other side. The two men lifted one of large crates into their arms and began to move it to the side of the truck. He couldn’t see where they were placing it. What he could see was the large armoire teetering too close to the edge on the flatbed and the rope that was holding it in place suddenly snapping!

The armoire went down over the side of the flatbed truck and crashed to the ground on the other side, out of view. The two men struggled with the weight of the crate as the back of the flatbed wobbled. Then they lost the battle to hold on to their load. People ran toward the side of the truck that was hidden from Dylan.

“Tammie!” Dylan called out. He took off running to where he’d last seen her. When he got there, he found her flat on her back on the ground. The armoire lay in pieces, just inches from her tiny body. The crate the men had been holding had broken open and emptied its contents at Tammie’s feet. Dylan pushed through the crowd, his heart pounding in his chest, until he got to her.

The fear on her face was unmistakable. “It missed me.”

He wasn’t sure if she was trying to reassure him or herself.

“Only by a split hair, child,” Trudie called out, running to Tammie’s side.

The men on the back of the truck jumped to the ground. Dylan heard the truck’s door slam as Maynard came around the corner to survey the damage.

With a deep scowl, the driver said, “Hey, someone is going to pay for this.”

“It ain’t gonna be me,” Maynard said, looking at him.

Trudie scowled. “You almost flattened the girl, and you’re worried about your paycheck? Shame on you both. You’ve got your priorities screwed up!”

Maynard took in a harsh breath at his grandmother’s words.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” Trudie asked Tammie.

“I’m fine,” she said, but when Dylan took her by the arm to help her up, he felt her trembling as much as he was. The fear at seeing the armoire fall over the side of the truck, knowing Tammie was there, had his heart racing faster than a locomotive.

“What happened here?” Trudie asked, glaring at the men.

“It was an accident, Grandma,” Maynard said.

“I don’t care if it was an accident. I’ve just lost a crate of statues, and that armoire is over a hundred years old,” the driver said.

“If you cared so much about your goods, why did you allow strangers to handle them?” Trudie shot back.

As the driver and Maynard argued, two workmen struggled to pick up the armoire, now mangled and pulling apart, and carry it out of the aisle. Another man started picking up broken pieces of statues and separating them from the statues that had survived the fall.

The broken armoire and smashed clay told Dylan exactly what kind of damage Tammie had averted by jumping out of the way. She could have been seriously hurt—or worse.

Without thinking, Dylan brushed back the tangled hair that had fallen in front of Tammie’s face. Her eyes were bright with fear, and the sight hit him like the blade of a knife. The need to protect her consumed him. He crushed her against his chest, more for his own comfort than anything he could offer her.

“I’m fine,” she said again. Her hands were flat on his chest as she looked up at him. Their eyes locked in a gaze that he found hard to break free of. It was then that he caught the slight tremor of her bottom lip. She quickly averted her gaze and gave her attention to the dirt on her hands.

“I got your shirt dirty,” she said, her voice shaky.

“Never mind about the shirt,” he said with a slight chuckle that was more relief from nerves than anything.

Voices arguing behind him pulled his attention away from Tammie.

“If you’d moved your truck quick enough, I could have unloaded my pieces myself,” the man who’d been on the back of the truck was saying to Maynard.

Maynard Burdett threw up his hands and took a step back. “Hey, next time, don’t ask a stranger to help you. It’s your shit. You can do it yourself.”

“You call that helping? You lost me a few thousand dollars.”

“It
wasn’t my fault!
Who sits a piece of furniture that large on the edge of a truck like that, anyway?”

The driver pointed a finger at Maynard. “Those statues are worth more than you’ll make this entire week.”

Trudie was standing now, fists by her side. “Common courtesy says you should have waited until I unloaded my trucks before moving in, young man.”

“I don’t have all month, lady. The auction starts tomorrow.”

“Don’t you think we know that?” Maynard snapped.

Trudie huffed. “You two are a fine pair. You could have killed the girl, and all you’re doing is worrying about your load and your paychecks.”

“Good point, Trudie,” Dylan said, holding Tammie’s hand as he brought her to her feet. “Not one of you has asked how the lady is.”

The driver of the truck glowered at them both. “I should be asking what you’re doing nosing around these grounds in the first place, when only the dealers are allowed out here to set up. It’s against auction rules to make deals before the market opens. Accidents like this don’t happen when—”

“I was just asking some questions,” Tammie said.

The man looked at Tammie, his eyes cold. “If you don’t want to get hurt, maybe you shouldn’t go asking so many questions.”

With the back of his truck now empty, he climbed back into the cab, fired the engine and drove the short distance to the next aisle. Dylan watched as he drove away, making note of where he was going—and the name on the side of the truck.

Aztec Corporation.
He’d seen that name before, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out where.
The truck took a right turn, heading back toward the street.

Dylan looked at the tent where they’d been unloading. None of the crates were opened. No displays were set up. The only piece of actual furniture the truck had held was that armoire, which was now broken. Strange. Making a mental note to look into the vendor’s tent later, he turned his attention back to Tammie.

“My jeans are wrecked,” she said with a shrug and a quick smile. Her knee was visible through the tear in the denim. “Does it hurt?” he asked.

“My knee? It’ll be fine.”

Answering the worried look he knew was on his face, Tammie rolled her eyes and smiled. “If I said I only had a hangnail, would that make you happy?”

He brushed his fingers down her cheek and felt a tingle run through his hand. “No. I don’t want you hurt at all.”

Her gaze met his and held it for a long moment. ‘Too late,” she said.

His face must have shown panic, because Tammie quickly added, “I’m only talking about my ego. It wasn’t a very ladylike fall, if you know what I mean.”

Trudie burst out laughing. “One can’t be graceful while making a quick getaway, dear. As I said, priorities.”

Dylan chuckled at that, more out of nervous energy than anything else.

Trudie touched Tammie’s shoulder. “You best be going home to check that knee out.”

“Thank you, Trudie,” Tammie said. “You’re right.”

Tammie was clearly still rattled as they silently walked back to the church parking lot where he’d parked his Jeep. As they walked, she rubbed her arm as if she was cold and darted a glance back in the direction they had just walked from and then to Dylan.

“You’ve got something spinning in your head. I can tell,” she finally said as they reached the Jeep. “Did you find anything out?”

Dylan unlocked the Jeep and glanced up at the big white church. He thought about telling Tammie what the old man had said about Aaron Gardner being the pastor here years ago. Enough people in town probably still remembered it. They just probably didn’t know the connection that Tammie had to the pastor.

“You don’t think that was an accident back there, do you?” Tammie said, settling in the passenger seat.

“Why do you say that?”

“You’ve been quiet ever since we left the auction grounds.” She was reading him right. Dylan was wondering if what had happened was truly an accident. The fact that there was one lone piece of furniture on a truck filled with crated statues didn’t quite sit right with him. But then, what did he know about antiques or auctions? Maybe all the vendors had an odd assortment of things to peddle.

He’d call Sonny tonight and have her check out Aztec Corporation. For some reason, it rang a bell with him, and maybe his sister could find out why. While he was at it, he’d check in with Jake Santos, one of the officers he worked with in Providence, to see if he could find out anything on Aurore and Susan. Although Captain Jorgensen made it clear that Dylan wasn’t to use department resources to gather information about the possible whereabouts of his brother. Dylan knew Jake and Kevin, two officers who he’d become tight with at the station, were eager to help. He’d only use them for information he knew Sonny couldn’t find on her own.

“I’m just tired from all the talking,” he finally said. The way the driver of the truck had looked at Tammie was almost like contempt. Sure he was upset about losing his load, but it hadn’t been her fault. She’d done nothing to cause it. She’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Still, it was almost as if he blamed her.

Dylan had no proof that what had happened was anything but an accident. And because of that, he was content to let Tammie think it was—at least for the moment.

When he had a better understanding of why that truck had been down that lane, he’d share his suspicions with her. For now, he just needed to get her back to the mansion so that he could do a little investigating on his own.

When they arrived at the mansion, the front door opened before they were even out of the Jeep and Aurore stood in the doorway with her fists planted on her hips.

“And just where have you been all day?”

* * *

Aurore’s glare said much more than words ever could, Tammie thought as she walked up toward the mansion’s door. She and Dylan had debated whether to take the time to go back to the campground to get Tammie’s car or come straight to the mansion. They both wanted a chance to talk to Serena, so Tammie had suggested they get her car later so that Dylan could talk to Serena with Tammie first and then he could bring her back to pick up the car.

He’d been preoccupied when they left the auction grounds. Maybe he was just tired, as he’d said. Fatigue was wearing her down, too.

Tammie took in Aurore’s hard scowl as they approached the front door.

Kill her with kindness,
she thought. Not that Tammie believed it would make a difference. “I went out early and didn’t want to disturb anyone,” she said.

Aurore looked past Tammie, to Dylan. “I should have known you were behind this.”