Highly Charged! (7 page)

By all accounts, he should have gone to bed one happy freaking dude. Still, he'd woken up screaming like a pansy and replaying the scene in his mind before that bomb had exploded and sent his world to shit.

Brad had been wearing protective gear that afternoon when he'd dismantled the IED. The local kid who'd secretly followed him into the field hadn't been so lucky. The kid's father—a subsistence farmer with more offspring than resources—had pulled the kid back, shielding him at the last second. Saving the boy. Losing an arm.

How the hell would he farm now? Brad had the benefit of the U.S. government to swoop in and provide topnotch medical care for the burns and shrapnel wounds in his leg. What did the Middle Eastern farmer have for support? While military hospitals patched up any number of civilian casualties, the guy had refused assistance from a military doc for fear of retaliation from insurgents in his town.

And Brad blamed himself. Not for detonating the
bomb. That was his job. He was guilty for befriending the kid in the first place, working around the language barrier to form a bond with a local boy in need of a role model. Some freaking hero he was.

He didn't know what to do with all his anger. And it only pissed him off more that he was stuck here—motionless and useless in Virginia.

At this rate, he'd be lucky to receive his Get Out of Jail Free card from the base shrink. He pounded his head against the pillows that smelled like Nikki's shampoo. Obviously, he'd lie through his teeth when they asked him if he was still having nightmares. But what if the flashbacks interfered with his ability to do his job?

That, he could not even consider.

Nikki had no idea how much he needed her. How much he wanted to be here, away from the four walls at home that he'd been starting to climb. At least here, she'd awakened him before the worst of the dream came, when he started to re-order all the sequence of events to try and come up with a scenario that wouldn't have resulted in a bomb going off and almost killing that kid.

Tonight, she'd ended up in his bed afterward. And he didn't mind waiting for her to be ready for more. He wanted to be around her in the hope all the work and the sex thoughts would chase away the bad crap clogging up his brain.

Burying his head in the pillow, he inhaled her scent. Focused on the memory of her soft skin and the sound of her sweet sighs every time he'd touched her. He wished he could indulge in those thoughts just for the pure pleasure of it.

But he had the feeling they were the only way he'd
keep from losing his mind tonight. At least, she'd made it clear she didn't want a relationship, so he didn't have to feel guilty about the fact that he didn't have jack shit inside himself to offer a woman emotionally.

“S
O WHO IS
E
DUARDO?”

Brad's question surprised her the next afternoon as Nikki picked up a broken beer bottle from an overgrown garden. They'd settled into a work routine early, perhaps hoping mutual avoidance would solve some of the issues between them. Apparently he wasn't any more ready to talk about what had happened the night before than she was. She was so mixed up and confused, part of her longing to tug him back into the house to finish what they'd started. Another part insisted she keep her distance from a guy who just might be battling demons even darker than her own.

The memory of his eyes when he'd awakened from the nightmare flitted through her consciousness, reminding her how much he'd needed her touch. How much the distraction of it had worked—for a while, at least.

They'd both gotten up just after sunrise and she'd wondered more than once if he'd had as much trouble as her sleeping the night before. He'd returned the tractor and the other tools to the rental company and had come back with a new socket set and some wrenches he'd
purchased for a housewarming present. He'd promised she'd be repairing her own plumbing in no time.

But other than that, they'd spoken very little until now…

“Eduardo?”

She blinked up at him in the bright sun. He was chucking rocks into the back of a trailer from a low garden wall that had fallen into disrepair.

“From Chloe's diary,” he clarified, pausing to brush the dirt from his hands as he leaned on the metal rails of the trailer hooked up to his pickup truck. “I did some reading last night to help me get a handle on all the players in Chloe's life. One of the early published diaries—1943—had correspondence with some Eduardo guy overseas.”

“Right.” She watched a bead of sweat trickle down the column of his throat, ending at the neck of his T-shirt, and wished she'd tasted him right there when she'd had the chance. “His identity is disputed by the handful of people who've studied the diaries. Some say Eduardo is a disguised version of Harry Benton, a naval captain she befriended. Others say Eduardo is the real name of a seaman she met who later died in the war effort.”

“Isn't it as simple as looking at the ship's roster? He served on a naval transport ship.”

She'd forgotten that detail, recalling he was in the service but not which branch. A chill danced over Nikki's skin. While she wasn't normally the superstitious sort, she found it interesting that her life continued to parallel Chloe's even now. Chloe had identified with her from the start because they'd both come from homes where they were shuffled around to reluctant relatives
and mostly ignored. They'd shared an interest in life writing. Erotica. Now, it seemed, they shared a wild attraction to a hot navy guy.

Had Eduardo been as closed off about his work as Brad was with her? She thought again about how quickly he'd dismissed her offer to talk with him the night before. He hadn't even considered confiding in her.

“There's no Eduardo on record, so that's one of many names Chloe used to hide someone's identity. The missing diaries are for mid-1943 to 1945, so when we find those volumes, we'll know who Eduardo really was.” There was so much scholarship that needed to be done on Chloe's life and work. Nikki wanted to be sure her friend's accomplishments and contributions to literature were well-documented.

“Aren't you tempted to start searching?” He looked ready to take apart the house himself.

If he was this dedicated to his work in the service, he must be a highly prized officer.

“Very tempted. But I need to get the house in shape for that historical society visit next week. I think the chances are good the Ralston family will try to find a reason to contest the will and take the house. But if I can have the property declared a historical site, that will at least give Chloe's home some protection from them. Once I get that security, I'll start looking for those diaries in earnest.” Right now, making improvements to the house felt like the best way to keep Chloe's legacy intact.

Before Brad could reply, the stray dog who followed him around—Killer, he'd christened him—began to bark. Nikki turned to see what had caught the animal's
attention at the same time a middle-aged, wintry blonde stepped around the corner of the house. She wore plaid shorts with a pink polo shirt and carried a casserole dish in one hand.

“Hello?”

“Get ready,” Nikki muttered under her breath, leaning close to Brad and inhaling the scent of clean sweat. “You wanted to meet the people in Chloe's life? Now's your chance.”

Nikki turned to the visitor and waved. “Hi, Angelica.”

As they waited for the woman to pick her way down the slope of the lawn in her pristine kelly green tennis shoes, Nikki got in a last minute aside to Brad. “She's Harold Ralston's granddaughter.”

She also happened to be one of the people the World War II veteran had warned Nikki about. Angelica had had her eye on Chloe's house from the time she was a little girl, apparently. Her grandfather had told her that it would not be passed down through their family, but as the product of an entitled upbringing, Angelica had never gotten the message.

Still, she was the first to try and disguise her animosity toward Nikki, sending over her teenagers to help Nikki move in two weeks ago.

“I come bearing casserole,” Angelica announced, shoving the silver foil container toward her. “My father called to tell me about your little
incident
last night. I thought I'd bring some baked ziti for comfort food. Am I the first to arrive?”

Peering around the yard, Angelica lifted her big sunglasses, propping them on her forehead before she gave Brad the once-over. Nikki noticed the ziti had come
from a local Italian restaurant, the gesture probably a store-bought excuse to poke around the property.

“Angelica, this is Brad.” Nikki wasn't surprised the family had been curious about the vandalism the night before. The Ralstons were usually in the know on everything that happened in town. Harold Ralston was the area's favorite son, a WWII veteran who'd been decorated for his heroism during the war in the Pacific. Someone from the police or the local paper had probably called him last night to let him know there'd been trouble at Chloe's old house. “He lives next door and has been kind enough to help me clean up around here. Brad, Angelica lives in town and her grandfather grew up with Chloe.”

“We can't choose our family, though,” Angelica joked, “so don't hold that against me! But seriously, Nicole, how are you holding up? I heard they threw a rock in the window?”

She squinted toward the house, shielding her eyes. Knowing she'd want the grand tour of the damage—wasn't that always what nosy neighbors wanted?—Nikki turned to lead the way up to the back porch, balancing the ziti.

Brad didn't follow, though. His gruff tone surprised her as he remained behind them.

“Angelica, do you think someone in Chloe's family is behind this?” Arms folded, his eyes bored into the other woman's as if he could ferret out the truth if he looked deep enough.

Angelica laughed, albeit a bit nervously. “With this family, you never can tell.”

She made to follow Nikki, but Brad didn't relent.

“I'm serious. This is more than just disgruntled gossip. Someone threw a rock in the window that could have seriously injured her.” He appeared more than a little pissed about it, in fact. A shiver danced over Nikki's skin at the realization he would protect her—not just from thieves in the night, but from a wolf in sheep's clothing like Angelica of the plaid golf shorts. “Do you think anyone in the family means to harm Nikki?”

 

W
HEN IT TOOK
A
NGELICA
more than a few seconds to answer, Brad sensed some sort of confession was forthcoming. A name maybe? It seemed the only plausible reason that Angelica would stall for so long. Was she genuinely worried or merely trying to think up a good cover story to throw blame in another direction? But before she could utter any helpful insider information, a man's voice shouted down to them from the side of the house closest to the driveway.

“Hey, girlie! Help an old man down.” A tall, thin older man leaned on a cane, waving impatiently with his other hand. He wore a sweater-vest over a long-sleeved shirt despite the warm spring weather. A dark green baseball cap with the insignia for army infantry caught Brad's eye.

Nikki's grip tightened on his arm. “It's Chloe's oldest stepbrother—Harold. He's the local city councilman and he's been running this town behind the scenes for almost a decade, I hear. He's the one who told me I should change my locks.”

“Coming, Grampy!” shouted Angelica, bolting away on her green Keds as if she'd been caught selling secrets of international consequence.

While Angelica helped her grandfather down a path near a patch of foxgloves on one side of the house, Brad lingered by Nikki, inhaling deeply. She smelled so good. The scent of her, the feel of her body so close to his, brought him right back to the night before when he'd had her on top of him, pulling his hand to where she wanted his touch.

And damn, but those memories provided some serious sexual firepower to distract him when he should be watching the byplay among the relatives. Angelica peered into the windows of Chloe's house more often than she watched the path in front of her grandfather.

“Do you want me to escort them from the property?” He spoke softly into Nikki's ear. He would have been resentful to have his time with her interrupted by anyone. But add in the fact that these people had apparently all been opposed to her taking possession of her mentor's home in the first place, and he had little patience for their questionable offers of empathy.

“I was trying to maintain peaceable relations with them.” Nikki glanced up at him through thick, dark lashes. He'd avoided looking at her for too long today, plagued by how much he wanted her in his bed—and not just because he hoped to chase away his nightmares. He hated thinking about showing her that weakness.

He ground his teeth together and tried to focus on the issue at hand.

“Why? It's your place now and you've got work to do.”

“They are still Chloe's family. They didn't do much for her, but I don't think she'd want me to make the house off-limits to them either.” She chewed her lip, though, a
sure sign she wasn't completely confident of that fact. “I don't know. Maybe I'm just so romanced by the idea of a big family that I don't want to see their bad side. No one ever brought me a casserole until I moved here.”

He couldn't imagine putting up with resentful relatives for the sake of baked ziti, but he heard what was unsaid. “You don't have much family?”

“None that care to stick around for more than a once-a-year visit.” She stared at the grandfather and granddaughter who were exchanging heated whispers while the blue jay with the recovering wing squawked from the patio. “Which, I guess, is not that unusual for a grown family that lives far apart. But even as a kid, I never saw my folks much.”

Brad thought about that, seeing her need to take in the wounded in a new light. She saved the abandoned. Gave a family to those in need. Even tolerated Chloe's step-clan because she'd befriended the writer.

The relatives would pay dearly if they were hurling rocks through her window when she'd rolled out the welcome mat for them. Brad would find a way to speak to Angelica Ralston soon and see what she knew.

“Sometimes the key to being a functional relative is to know when to put up a few boundaries.”

She nodded her agreement but went over to greet the Ralston patriarch.

“Hello, Harold.” She introduced the guy to Brad, and after some small talk about his deployment and temporary leave, Brad felt himself relaxing a bit.

“I hear you had some trouble last night?” The older man's craggy face was etched with concern.

While Nikki pointed out the tire marks on the lawn,
Angelica continued to poke around the lawn, peering into crevices in an old rock wall and surreptitiously searching the foundation of the farmhouse for cracks and holes. Seeking a spot where the missing diaries could be hiding?

“The police have been alerted,” Nikki was saying to the elderly town councilman. “I should have changed the locks when you told me to since there was an attempt to break in to one of the metal sheds.”

Harold studied his granddaughter with narrowed gray eyes. “I don't suppose you've asked this one for an alibi?” He jerked a thumb in Angelica's direction.

“I can't imagine—” Nikki began.

“Her husband's landscaping business is in trouble. I wouldn't be surprised if she's hoping for a new source of income. She always said this place would made a great bed-and-breakfast.” He straightened his cap with a weathered hand as he looked up at the house where he'd grown up.

“I'll change the locks right away,” Nikki assured him, subtly guiding him back toward the driveway, and his old model Cadillac.

“Thanks for coming,” Brad offered, seeing that Nikki was handling the drawing of boundaries pretty well on her own. “I set up an appointment with a security company first thing this morning to wire the place with alarms, so we'll be able to catch whoever has been harassing her.”

Angelica's head shot up at that comment, her cell phone glued to one ear as she gave up searching the house foundation. She appeared more than a little interested in the new security measures.

“Good idea, son.” Harold patted Brad on the shoulder. “I'm glad to see Nikki has a military man looking out for her.”

After goodbyes all around and another thank-you from Nikki for the ziti, Angelica and her grandfather were settled into their respective vehicles and retreating from the secluded property.