Serving Trouble (12 page)

She pushed away. “It is my fault. I'm to blame. I didn't carry my baby long enough. There must have been something I could have done differently, something I missed. A ­couple more weeks, months even, and he would have been fine.” She opened the door and moved to climb down.

Her grief, her loss—­that was all on her. And she had to pay the price. Her shoes hit the gravel and she released the door. But even with the heartache, she wouldn't change a thing. She'd held Morgan once and it had been worth a lot more than seventy thousand dollars. Now she just needed to focus on paying what she owed and not losing her heart again.

“Josie, don't go. Not like this.”

“I've been living with this for over a year,” she said softly, glancing back at him. The light in the truck illuminated his pained expression. “I don't need a rescue from grief. Go home, Noah. Help Caroline. Search the woods. Feed the kittens. They need you.”

“And you don't,” he said.

“No.” She plucked her handbag off the front seat floor and stepped away from the truck. “Goodnight, Noah.”

“Night, Josie.”

She closed the door, but stopped an inch before she closed him out. “You'll remember to check on the kittens right?”

“I'm not that much of a jerk,” he said with a halfhearted smile.

She stepped back. She waited for the truck to pull away, but it remained still, engine rumbling, on her gravel drive. Shaking her head, she turned and headed for the front door. She had moved past sneaking into her dad's house. But she knew Noah wouldn't leave until she was inside, safe and sound.

“You're not a jerk,” she murmured once the door was closed and locked behind her. She headed for the front hall window to watch as he pulled away. “Not at all.”

And that was part of the problem. There was a point when she'd wanted to lose herself in the kiss. His mouth had claimed hers and it would have been so easy to let him possess her.

But she had a scar—­invisible maybe, still she felt it—­from the last time Noah had walked away. Not as big as the one left by Travis, though she knew it was thanks to sheer luck and Noah that her high school sweetheart hadn't left a visible mark. Or as painful as the reminders of Morgan's father, the man who'd left her pregnant. Still, she wouldn't let Noah Tager carve out another piece of her heart.

“Josephine?” her father's voice called from the den. She heard the whisper of sportscasters in the background.

“I'm home, Dad.”

She turned and walked into the room. Her father was in his recliner, remote in hand, watching a baseball game.

“Did Noah drop you off?”

“Yes.” She sat on the couch that had been the dogs' favorite perch throughout her high school years. “My car needs some work.”

“I could lend you a hand sometime.”

She forced a smile. “That'd be great. Thanks. I think it's the starter. Stupid Mini. I bought it used in Portland. Easier to park in the city.”

Her dad nodded slowly and turned to her. “So did Noah hear from your brother?”

The hope in his voice nearly brought her to tears. Had her father spent the last five years moving around this big, old farmhouse, watching his dogs pass away and worrying about her brother? Alone?

I needed you, Dad. I was alone too and scared to ask for help.

She reached over and placed her hand over her father's rough, aged skin.

“No, Dad,” she said softly. “Not yet.”

 

Chapter Seventeen

“I
F YOU WANT
to keep working at the bar, I need to lock up your gun.” Noah pushed away his empty pie plate and stared across the kitchen table at his dishwasher. He couldn't have her waving a weapon around in the back room. Next time she might accidentally shoot Josh and then they wouldn't get another pie. And the youngest Summers brother knew how to bake.

“But Dustin's close,” she said firmly. “What if he shows up at the bar? Or the house? You saw the picture. He could be out there right now.” She waved to the window.

“Caroline.” He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. Her slice of breakfast pie remained untouched on her plate. “I walked every inch of this property and half the neighbor's last night. We only have ten acres. If he'd been out there, I would have seen him.”

“He sent the text not long after I found your barn,” she protested, withdrawing her hand from his hold. “He's following me.”

“He's not out there now. I'm not saying he won't turn up. But when he does I don't think it will be good for anyone if you have a gun. You scared the hell out of that raccoon last night and you didn't even fire.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “I heard the noise and I was so scared.”

He sat back in his chair. “Not everything is an attack. Not around here. You're safe, Caroline. I'm going to make sure no one turns you in and I'm going to protect you from Dustin. You'll just have to trust me.”

She nodded and withdrew the gun from the waistband of her pants. “I do. I know you'll do your best to keep me safe and hidden. I'd feel better if I could help . . . but you're right. It's not just Dustin. Every noise feels like an attack is imminent.”

He took the pistol and removed the bullets. At least one of the women he was trying to keep out of reach of a madman wanted his help.

“But I'm keeping the job,” she said.

“That's fine, Caroline. I'm going to take a shower and then sleep for a few hours before heading into work.”

He pushed back from the table, feeling the ache in his muscles from hiking until past dawn this morning. At some point, he needed a full night's sleep. Maybe a return to the first few days back when he'd taken over the bar from his dad. He'd crashed after closing and slept until midmorning. Some days he'd gone for a run before opening the bar, but most of the time he'd fit in a little physical training or a trip to the gun club when April showed up. Simple, easy days. And there had been no chance to play the hero.

The floorboards creaked and groaned as he climbed to the second story. He headed for his bedroom, pulling off his T-­shirt as he walked. The walls were pale blue and covered in pictures from high school. There was a blank space above his wooden headboard where he'd once hung a “The Few. The Proud. The Marines.” poster. He'd ripped it down when he'd first walked into the room after returning home.

He scanned the other walls as he removed his boots and jeans. Dominic stared back at him from almost every shot. And Ryan was in most of them too.

“Dom, I need you to come home and kick my ass for laying a hand on your sister,” he murmured to the picture on the bedside table. He stood in the center holding up a trophy. “I need something to keep me away from her.”

Because it feels a helluva lot like she is the only one I want and need.

He stripped off his pants, tossed them on the unmade bed, and headed for the attached bath. Running his hand over his chin, he turned to the mirror. He should probably shave too, but he was too damn tired.

Where the hell had Dustin disappeared to? He turned on the shower and stepped under the cool stream without waiting for the water to warm. He hadn't seen any signs of a campsite, or even footprints in the wet ground from the light rain a few nights back.

He suspected their former CO was trying to terrorize Caroline. Back on the base in Afghanistan, the scumbag had laughed when he'd run into Noah escorting Caroline to the bathroom in the middle of the night. He teased her for needing a chaperone to take a piss. It had taken a helluva lot of restraint to keep from punching the higher-­ranking marine. But Noah had held back knowing Caroline deserved her day in court.

And all the bastard got was a slap on the wrist for adultery. I should have knocked him out when I had the chance.

This time, he would land a hit or two. While he'd taken Caroline's gun, he planned to keep one locked in his truck.

“Noah!” He heard a pounding on his bedroom door as Caroline called out a second time. “Noah!”

“In the shower,” he said, doubting she heard him over the water. He leaned his head back, rinsing the shampoo out.

“There's a . . .”

He couldn't make out the rest. He turned the water off, stepped out, and reached for a towel.

“Did you hear me?” The panic was rising in her voice and she screamed through the door. “There's a patrol car out front!”

Noah secured the towel at his waist and headed for the door, leaving a trail of water on the linoleum bathroom floor and then the carpeted bedroom.

“Did an officer get out of the car?” he demanded, opening the door.

A pale-­faced Caroline shook her head.

“Might be Josie's dad,” he reassured her. Without bothering to take the time to pull on clothes, he headed for the stairs. If they were here for Caroline, if someone had tipped them off, he couldn't let her meet them alone.

He reached the kitchen and spotted the car sitting in the gravel parking area that separated the house from the barn. The side read “Forever Police Department.” And he breathed a sigh of relief. Not the state troopers. He knew every cop working under Josie's dad. Hell, maybe his neighbor had reported him for snooping around his property by the chicken coop at dawn.

But the door to the police car didn't open. Noah pushed through the door to his house and scanned the front seat of the car. The person in the driver's seat had long, dark hair.

Josie?

“What the hell?” With the faded blue towel keeping his private parts out of view, he walked out onto the porch. “Stay here,” he called to Caroline.

“Shoes would have been a good idea,” he muttered as he crossed the gravel to the car. He headed for the driver's side window and knocked.

Josie turned to look up at him. Her fingers maintained a white-­knuckled grip on the steering wheel. And her eyes . . . red and overflowing with tears. Her cheeks were wet. Even though her hands maintained a tight hold on the wheel, her arms trembled as sobs shook her body.

“Josie!” He pulled opened the driver's side door and took a knee right there in the gravel. He didn't care if the rocks tore his skin to pieces because one look at her face, a mask of pain and anguish covering her go-­to defiant expression, and he knew. Someone had died.

Dominic.

He reached up and placed his hand on her cheek. He didn't trust himself to pull her from the car. Even kneeling on the ground, his legs felt like Jell-­O. As soon as she said the words—­the ones that he fucking knew were coming—­then he would need to turn away from the truck and throw up.

Gently, he turned her face toward his. “What is it, Josie?” he whispered.

“Dad got a call early this morning.” She hiccupped as the tears trickled faster and faster, rushing over her cheeks and his hand. “Dominic was injured.”

“Injured. Not dead?”

She nodded and he placed his free hand on her leg to keep from falling forward with relief.

“Not dead,” she said, her voice still trembling. “But it's bad. They didn't provide details. I don't know how it happened, where he's hurt, or where he was. Just that they're moving him to Germany and he'll need surgery.”

Noah squeezed her thigh. “He's strong. Your brother will make it through surgery.”

“But the thought of him in a hospital alone.” She closed her eyes. “I've counted on him being the best, the strongest, the smartest ever since he left. He
wanted
to serve. And I trusted him to always be the one out of the two of us who would succeed. He's the star. I know he's fighting, going to dangerous places, but I always thought he'd be all right.”

“He's not dead yet,” Noah said. But he knew that thought wasn't high on the comfort meter.

“I know.” She opened her eyes and looked at him. “I also know all about sitting and waiting for it to happen.”

Ah hell.

“You're not alone this time,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “And, sweetheart, you can't give up on Dominic. He's going to pull through.”

I need him to make it out of surgery and get his ass back here.

“I hope so,” she said, her words hollow. And yeah, he'd bet there was a fifty-­fifty chance she believed them.

“Where's your dad?” he asked. “He must be upset.” Wasn't that a fucking understatement? This might break the police chief.

“My dad left for the airport. He packed a bag and climbed into the truck after we got the call. I don't think he stopped to book a flight. He just planned to show up at the terminal and find a way to get to Germany. He left his patrol car behind. I was supposed to take it to the station, but I came here first.”

Suddenly aware of the gravel digging into his knee, and the fact that he was wearing a towel, which wasn't covering much with him kneeling like this, he released her face and withdrew his hand from her leg. But before he could stand, she reached for him and grabbed ahold of his wrist.

“I'm not ready for this, Noah. I'm not tough enough to see my dad cry, or, or any of it.” She glanced around the sedan. “Right now, I don't even think I could drive this car back to the station. It's a miracle I made it here.”

“You should go to Germany,” he said, the words out before he'd thought them through. He wanted her here, with him. But she'd be safe in Germany. And she'd be with Dominic just in case Noah's faith in his friend's ability to pull through didn't hold.

She let out a harsh, dry laugh. “I can't afford it.”

“If the army hasn't offered to cover your travel and lodging that's a good sign,” Noah said. Part of him wanted to quiz her on every little detail from the early-­morning call. But he didn't want to scare her.

“They did.” She blinked as if trying to fight a fresh wave of tears. But her efforts were no match for her grief. “But I'll miss work. And I have bills due.”

“Go. I'll cover your lost wages and tips.” With his free hand, he gently removed her grip on his wrist. Then he leaned into the patrol car and drew her out. He slipped one arm under her legs, his other supporting her back.

“Noah, it's too much,” she murmured.

“I'm not worried about the money, Josie.”

But I'm fucking terrified for you, and for Dominic.

“If you're sure.”

Slowly he straightened, cradling her in his arms. “Please, Josie. Just say thank you and let me help you this time.”

He was aware of her face pressed against his chest. He'd dried from the shower, but now her tears dampened the hair. Even though she was crying, she felt so damn good in his arms. Someone to hold on to. Someone to keep him from falling apart.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “But you don't have to carry me.”

Holding you tight? That's for me, sweetheart. To keep me from falling to pieces in my driveway while wrapped in a towel.

He tightened his hold and headed for the house. “Let me take you inside, get you a piece of pie, and then we'll book your ticket. Later, I'll find a way to get the patrol car back to the station. I'm sure your dad's deputies understand. He's probably briefed them by now.”

He kept his voice low and soothing as he rambled. If he were in her shoes—­and shit, he was pretty damn close, Dominic had been like family to him—­he'd want a barrage of reassurances blocking the bleak what-­ifs from parading through his imagination. What if Dominic had already lost too much blood? Or what if his friend had lost a limb? What if he stayed alive but was never the same?

Noah clenched his teeth as he reached the porch steps. He refused to cry. Not here. Not now. He'd give her pie first. Get her settled. She didn't need to see him fall apart.

“The pie's pretty good. It's the one Josh dropped off for Caroline.” He pushed through the door and headed for the kitchen table. Scanning the room, he didn't see Caroline. He had a hunch she'd disappeared. Whether she'd run out of fear or out of respect for the emotional moment they'd shared in the driveway, he wasn't sure.

Kicking the chair out with one foot, he lowered her down. And his blue bath towel followed her feet to the kitchen floor.

“I need to get dressed.” He'd retrieved the only thing keeping his naked ass covered while he focused on being a friend to Josie. She'd come to him. After last night, when she'd made it clear she didn't need anyone, she'd driven straight to him. And he was pretty damn sure it was because she needed a friend.

He secured the towel around his waist and headed for the door. “Pie is there on the table. Plates are in the cupboard to the right of the sink and forks below. Help yourself.”

He took the stairs two at a time, half listening for movement in the kitchen. It sounded like she'd found the plates. Now, he needed clothes. And then . . .

He stepped into his bedroom. Dominic's face stared back at him. There was a whole fucking collage from their senior year. He spotted Lily curled up in friend's lap. Lily and Dominic side by side after a game. Someone had called Lily, right? Dominic had broken up with her. First after he'd left for basic training and then again when he'd completed Ranger School. Noah had taken it as a sign that Dominic didn't plan to call Forever home again. He guessed Lily had too. But she still stopped by the bar now and then to ask about him.