The Survivor (11 page)

“Thank you, sir,” Lex said.

“That's a fine animal you've got there,” Vernon remarked. “Loyal, isn't she?”

Lex grinned. “Very much so.”

“I had a dog when I came back from WWII,” Vernon said, looking reflective. “I wasn't fit for human company, but my Jack got me through it. He was a German shepherd. Beautiful animal.” He jerked his head toward the rear of the house. “He's buried back there. I had him for fifteen years before the cancer got him.”

“I'm sorry,” Lex said, looking a bit odd. Thoughtful, even.

“You were in the service?” Vernon asked.

Lex grinned. “That obvious, is it?”

“A soldier always recognizes another soldier,” he said with a smile. “You see action?”

“I did,” Lex admitted. “Took four hits to the shoulder. Messed me up pretty good.”

Vernon nodded. “You medic out?”

“It was that or drive a desk all day,” Lex told him.

Bess was finding this conversation utterly fascinating. She hadn't been able to get Lex to say a word about his military career and yet Vernon didn't seem to have a problem posing the questions or getting him to answer. Probably because he'd been in the military, as well. Probably because Vernon understood things about that experience that Bess would never be able to.

Vernon grimaced. “Who wants to drive a desk for Uncle Sam? You can do that at home and see your family, not risk your life,” he added, chuckling. He paused. “Four rounds into the shoulder, eh? Hit any arteries?”

Lex nodded, carefully swallowing another sip of coffee.

Vernon winced. “A close call then,” he said, then gestured toward Honey. “No wonder she's so protective of you. Animals have a sense about stuff like that, you know? My Jack certainly did.”

You came close, didn't you?
Elsie had said. Bess inwardly gasped and her gaze darted to Lex, who was carefully avoiding looking at her. Four hits to the shoulder? An artery? She saved me? My God, Bess thought. He'd nearly died. Her heart kicked into overdrive and gave a panicked squeeze when she considered what had almost happened to him. When she
considered that she'd almost never met him, that he would have never come into her life.

She was breathing too hard, Bess realized, feeling close to hyperventilating. Abruptly she stood and excused herself to the bathroom.

Lex did look at her then, his intriguing blue eyes concerned.

“My biscuit didn't agree with me,” she lied, then hurried out of the room. She felt physically ill, ready to vomit, and her hands wouldn't stop shaking. She stared at her chalky reflection for a moment, then splashed water on her face in an effort to try and keep the tears at bay. Tears? For someone she'd known a day? Someone who wasn't even supposed to be that important to her?

He'd nearly died.

And she was already so invested in him—in his life—that she was falling apart.

Lord help her.

V
ERNON WATCHED
B
ESS DART OUT
of the room and winced. He sent Lex an apologetic look. “Poor thing. She gets a mite squirrely when you start talking about dying.”

“Oh?” Lex remarked, intrigued by her reaction. He hadn't exactly liked talking about his near-death experience in front of her—hadn't talked to anyone much about it at all—but Vernon's matter-of-fact approach had somehow made it easier to share. Probably because the old man was a vet himself and had been through a similar experience. It would have felt disrespectful not to answer his questions.

Furthermore, Vernon's story about Jack, his faithful German shepherd, had given him the purpose he'd been looking for. One moment he'd been sitting here enjoying a good cup of coffee, the next he'd seen his new direction roll out in front of him, one that
would allow him to keep his job with Ranger Security, but still be doing something else worthwhile. If Honey had been good for him as a wounded returning soldier and old Jack had been good for Vernon, then there had to be animals that would fill that same purpose for other veterans. Animals that were desperately in need of homes, soldiers who were desperately in need of unconditional love. It was the perfect solution, a beautiful idea, and he was utterly psyched and energized it.

“Yeah,” the old man said, looking thoughtful. “I've known her grandfather for a long time, and that little girl has seen more tragedy in her life than what a body ought to have to bear.”

Lex leaned forward and winced, silently encouraging Vernon to go on.

“Her daddy was killed in a car wreck when she was seven,” the old man said. “That was her granddaddy's boy, mind. Her mother, evidently overcome with grief, committed suicide a year to the day later.” He winced. “Terrible stuff.”

Lex inwardly swore. No wonder she was “squirrelly about death” as Vernon had so delicately put it. Losing both parents—one to an accident, one deliberate—by the time she was eight.

“Her granddaddy used to bring her over here,” he said. “Little slip of a thing, those big eyes in that small face. She didn't talk for about a year after her
momma's death, but with some coaxing she finally come along.” He smiled. “And she's grown into a lovely girl. Has a good heart, that one. A heart for the world and everything in it. She sees the good in everything, the value in everything. Nothing is worthless to her.” Vernon suddenly grinned. “Even a washed-up old creakin'-bones soldier like me.”

At that exact moment, Bess walked back into the room. She'd pushed her hair away from her face, but the ends were wet, presumably where she'd splashed water to combat nausea. He knew what that was like, Lex thought.

“You okay?” he asked, wanting to stand up and put his arms around her. But somehow he didn't think she'd appreciate it at the moment. Not in front of Vernon at any rate.

She nodded. “Just got a little sick to my stomach,” she said, her smile wobbly and too bright. “I'm fine now.”

“That's good,” Vernon said, his ears perking up. “Because unless I'm mistaken, that's a Firebird rumbling down my drive.”

All senses suddenly on point, Lex stood and moved to the kitchen window. “That's him,” he said, adrenaline pumping instantly into his system.

“You got a plan, young man?” Vernon wanted to know.

He nodded. “You just get him through that door,”
Lex told him. “And I'll take care of the rest.” He looked to Bess. “You stay where you are. I want him looking at you. That way I'll have the element of surprise.”

She nodded, her lips curling slightly. “So I'm bait?”

He chewed the inside of his cheek. “Something like that, yes.”

She merely shrugged and settled more firmly against her chair. Thankfully the table was between her and the door, so there was a bit of protection there. Lex heard the engine die and quietly moved behind the door. Every nerve ending was stretched tight with tension. He rested on the balls of his feet, ready for action.

A knock at the door, then Vernon ambled over. “Yes? Can I help you?”

“Good morning, sir. My name is John Smith and I'm a friend of Bess Cantrell's from Bygone's Antiques over in Marietta, Georgia.”

From his vantage point behind the door, Lex watched Bess's jaw grow tight as she ground her teeth together.

“Yes, sir, I know Bess,” Vernon told him, playing his part to perfection. “How is she doing?”

“She's fine, sir. Just fine. I'm working with her now and am canvassing some of her clients for old books. She's expanding into the rare book market
and I wondered if you had anything that would fit that description.”

He would have been convincing if most of Bess's clients didn't know her so well. But these were relationships forged by her grandfather and then later built upon by Bess. Most of the people she visited for their “rusty treasure” had watched her grow up. Mr. Yeager here was just too stupid to know it.

Vernon pretended to be thoughtful for a moment. “You know, young man, I think I do have some old books stored back in my spare bedroom.” He opened the door wider. “You come on in and take a look at what I've got, since Bess sent you.”

Three seconds later, the opportunity presented itself. Yeager stepped deep enough into the kitchen for Lex to strike. One well-placed blow sent the man tumbling to the floor, and before he could struggle or retaliate, Lex had his knee in the small of his back and his arms twisted behind him and cuffed.

“What the hell—”

Lex hauled him to his feet and Bess walked over and stared at him. “Do you know who I am?” she asked.

“Am I supposed to?”

“Bess Cantrell,” she said. “And you are no associate of mine.” Then to Lex's surprise, she drew her fist back and planted a solid blow directly into Yea
ger's soft gut. “That was for Stanley Lawson,” she said. Her gaze met Lex's. “I can't abide a bully.”

Honey growled at Yeager, baring her teeth, and Yeager attempted to kick out and land a blow against the dog. White-hot anger bolted through Lex and he jerked Yeager's arms up. The action wrenched his own shoulder, making him wince with pain. “Watch yourself,” he said. “You're already in enough trouble.”

Vernon opened the door again and Lex frog-marched their prisoner to the car.

“What are we going to do with him?” Bess asked. “We can't put him in the backseat with Honey.”

Lex opened the hatch, then tumbled their prisoner into the back. Before Yeager could orient himself, Lex pulled a big nylon zip tie from his back pocket and secured it tightly around the man's ankles.

“Hey, that hurts!” Yeager yelped. “You can't leave me back here. Kidnappers! Kidnappers!”

Lex unrolled a long strip of duct tape and tore the end with dramatic flourish before slapping it hard over their prisoner's mouth.

Bess grinned, then leaned over. “Strictly speaking,” she asked as aside, “is this legal?”

“It's a citizen's arrest,” Lex said. “So in the loosest interpretation of the law, yes.”

She nodded, seemingly good with that.

They double-checked the cargo area to make sure
there was nothing there that he could use to free himself, then patted him down and removed his keys and wallet and cell phone.

Lex eyed the cell phone and made a mental note to go through it to make sure they weren't missing anything important. He did a quick sweep of the car and found a laptop computer and printout of Bess's client list with little lines drawn through the names of the people he'd already seen. Interestingly enough, he'd divided the map into two sections, the north and the south.

“Bess, you haven't had any calls from clients north of the city, right?”

She looked at the map, a furrow etched between her brows. “No,” she said. “Every call has been along his path here.”

“My spidey sense is tingling,” he said, staring at the map.

“You think he might not have been working alone?”

“I don't know. Every indication is no, but this map…” He shrugged. “It does make me wonder. Why divide it into two sections?”

“If you ask him he's just going to lie,” Bess said.

“True. But I've got his cell, and if he's working with someone, then you can bet they'll try to contact him.” He looked over at her. “We'll just wait and see if it rings.”

“You kicked ass in there,” she said, shooting him an admiring look. And, belatedly, it occurred to him that he
had,
that he'd done what he needed to do. A little of the tension he'd been carrying around in his chest lessened.

She reached up on tiptoes and pressed a lingering kiss against his lips. “It was hot,” she murmured.

Suddenly so was he. And they had one more night to burn the sheets up.

Once they dropped Yeager off at the jail, the rest of the evening was theirs.

 

W
ITH
Y
EAGER STOWED SAFELY
in the back, Bess went over and gave Vernon a hug. “Vernon, thanks so much. We couldn't have done this without you.”

Smelling like coffee and Old Spice, Vernon returned her embrace. “You're welcome, Bess. You don't be a stranger, you hear? You get on down to see me more often.”

“I will,” she assured him. “I haven't had a chance to pick lately. We've been too busy chasing after that asshole.”

Vernon nodded toward Lex, who was giving Honey a quick turn around the yard before getting back onto the road. “I like your young man. He's a good one.”

“He's not my—”

Vernon's shrewd gaze stopped her short. “I haven't
lived as long as I've lived without picking up on a few things,” he said. “And I can spot a young couple making moony faces at one another from a hundred yards.”

She chuckled. “Moony faces?”

“You know what I mean,” he said. “That boy has been through hell. He deserves a little heaven like you. You're good for one another.”

“Vernon—”

“Everybody dies, Bess,” he said softly. “Hell, I'm at the jumpin'-off place myself.”

She gasped and felt her heart squeeze. “Oh, Vernon, you know you've got years ahead of you.”

He merely shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. But I'm ready when my time comes, and whether people are ready or not, it still does. Death is a part of life, Bess, and you can't spend your life avoiding the good things for fear of the bad.”

“I'm not—”

He looked at her again. “I'm old, but I'm not blind. Your grandfather used to worry about you, you know. Was worried what would happen to you when he passed. He said that he was afraid that he'd taught you too much about looking in the past for you to want to see any value in the future.”

She swallowed and felt tears burn the backs of her lids. He'd said the same thing to her, only a few days before he'd died. A guy had come into the store—a
thirty-something professional with a nice smile—and had asked her out. She'd said no without really even considering it. Her grandfather had gotten onto her then, had told her that she'd better get her head into her future because she was going to get damned lonely with only her things.

“Just think about it,” Vernon said. He nodded toward Lex. “That boy is half in love with you already. You give it a little more time and I think they'll be some wedding bells in your future. The pitter-patter of little feet, even.”

Her chest swelled with some unnamed emotion, then twisted with bitter regret. That was just it—they didn't have the time and weren't going to make it.

“We barely know each other,” Bess argued.

“Doesn't matter,” Vernon told her. “I saw my Mattie from across the room at a USO dance, then leaned over and told my buddy I'd just seen the woman I was going to marry.”

She grinned, surprised. “I didn't know that's how you met Mattie.” His sweet wife had lost her battle with cancer last year.

“She was a nurse,” he said. “And she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. I proposed to her during our first dance and she blushed and pshawed.” He grinned at her. “A month later she was mine.”

“A month?”

“Time was something we didn't want to waste
back then,” he said. “That's the mistake you young'uns make now. You take it all for granted.”

No doubt he was right, Bess thought, looking at Lex. He had bent down and was rubbing Honey's face, a smile on his own. He wore a dark brown sweater and jeans and the color looked good on him. It made his blue eyes bluer, his hair darker. The jeans were worn and slightly loose, but clung to his ass in a way that made her pulse move more swiftly and her mouth parch.

They had one night left together, one evening in which she could try to slake her lust, to get him out of her system, to let him go.

She reached over and touched her old friend's arm. “Thanks for sharing all of that with me, Vernon. I think I needed to hear it.”

“Any time, Bess,” he said.

She waved a goodbye, then went and climbed into the passenger seat. The minute she got into the car, Yeager started grunting beneath the duct tape. She thought she recognized the word
bathroom
and merely rolled her eyes, having no sympathy for him whatsoever.

“It's only four hours back to Marietta,” she said. “You can hold it.”

A pause, then another frantic noise that made her smile.

Lex opened the back door and Honey jumped in.
She peered over the backseat at their trussed-up prisoner, then looked at Lex as if to say, “Really? This is what we're doing?”

Lex just grinned, then slid into the driver's seat. He jerked his head toward the back. “What's his problem?”

“I think he needs to go to the bathroom.”

“Too bad,” Lex announced in carrying tones, then started the car and, with a wave at Vernon, motored out of the drive.