Navy SEAL Rescuer (3 page)

He ran a finger across the welts on her neck, and she
shivered.

“I told you, kids have been—”

“This wasn’t done by a kid who got carried away. He meant
business, Cat.” His eyes had gone soft and gentle, his words quiet, and she felt
herself falling into that gentleness. Allowing herself to believe that it was
real.

“My name is Catherine,” she said, shoving everything else away
and concentrating on that one thing.

No one called her Cat.

Not anymore.

“Yeah? I’ll keep that in mind.” He closed the door and rounded
the truck, and she scooted to the very end of the leather bucket seat. The seat
belt was an old-fashioned lap belt, and she buckled it as Darius got into the
truck, trying to slow her heart rate and pull herself together.

She’d have to explain the bruises to Eileen, but Catherine
wouldn’t let her see how terrified and shaken she was.

“Where are we headed?”

“Sacred Heart.”

“I know it. Downtown Spokane, right?”

“That’s right.” The hospital was twenty minutes away, a long
time to sit in a truck with a man she didn’t know. She fidgeted in her seat,
wishing she’d taken Logan up on his offer to have a police officer drive her to
the hospital. So what if people saw her in a police cruiser and talked? They
were already talking.

“Has your grandmother been ill for long?”

“I don’t know.” She felt his sideways glance, but didn’t offer
more information.

“It must be tough on both of you.”

“It is.” Especially because Catherine felt responsible. If she
hadn’t gone to prison, if she’d been around, maybe she would have noticed
Eileen’s decline, forced her to go to the doctor sooner, given her a chance of
surviving the cancer that was eating her liver.

“She’s pretty frail, your grandmother?” he asked casually, but
Catherine doubted there was anything casual about Darius.

“Yes. Why?”

“You two live at the end of a dirt road, Catherine. The doors
on your house are flimsy. The windows are single pane. It’s not safe.”

“It always has been before.”

“It wasn’t safe this morning.”

He had a point. With Eileen’s health failing and the juvenile
pranks escalating, maybe security was something Catherine needed to look
into.

“I’ll have a security company come out and install a
system.”

“I can help you with that. I work for one of the largest
security contractors in the country.”

“I’m not sure—”

“Tell you what. I’ll have someone go out and assess things.
He’ll have an estimate for you when we get back. You don’t have to commit to
anything.”

“Thanks, but—”

“Is there some reason why you don’t want my help?”

“I don’t want
anyone’s
help. My
grandmother and I have been doing fine on our own for a long time, and we’re
going to keep doing fine,” she said. It was the truth, but there was a deeper
truth. She didn’t want help from a guy who looked tough as nails but who had
gentleness in his eyes and his voice.

“We all need help sometimes.”

“I know, but I want to make sure that—” She couldn’t say what
she was thinking. That she didn’t want help from someone like him.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Good, because me making a phone call isn’t a big deal. It’s
just a favor to a neighbor, okay?”

“Okay.” What else could she say? She needed a security system.
Darius could get her one quickly. If the price was right, she couldn’t say
no.

She had a feeling that she should, though, because she had a
feeling that Darius would complicate her life if she let him.

“Great.” He patted her knee, the casual touch reminding her of
the sweetness of being with someone who was comfortable and comforting and
wonderfully familiar.

She’d had that a long time ago.

She’d lost it.

Her heart had finally healed, and she wasn’t in the market to
have it broken again.

She shifted away from Darius, staring out the side window,
watching the landscape speed by as he made his phone call.

THREE

S
omehow, in the four hours since Catherine
had dropped her grandmother off at the hospital, Eileen had faded, her bright
orange hair muted, her skin sallow and yellowed. Head back against the
waiting-room chair, eyes closed, mouth slack, she looked almost skeletal.

Catherine hurried across the room, touching her grandmother’s
cool dry wrist, relieved to feel blood pulsing beneath the skin. “Eileen?”

“’Bout time you showed up.” Eileen’s eyes flew open, her sharp
green gaze unchanged by her illness, her eyebrows and lashes sparse from
chemotherapy. Looking into her face made Catherine sick with grief and fear. She
didn’t let it show.

“I’m ten minutes early.”

“Then, why have I been waiting for a quarter of an hour?”

“You must have finished early.”

“Can’t see how that could have happened. I get the same amount
of treatment every time. Unless they shorted me some this go-round. Maybe I need
to track the nurse down and ask.”

“You know they wouldn’t do that,” Catherine said wearily.

“I suppose that I do, but chemo always makes me grumpy and
waiting makes me grumpier. Let’s get out of here.” Eileen put a hand on both
arms of the chair and pushed herself to standing. Upright, she looked even
frailer, faded jeans hanging from narrow hips, her clavicle protruding from a
sagging T-shirt. She started walking toward the exit, wobbling a little with
every step, but Catherine didn’t bother to offer assistance. Eileen wouldn’t
accept it.

“There’s something I need to tell you, Eileen,” she said,
resisting the urge to put a hand on Eileen’s elbow and hold her steady.

“Yeah? So, spit it out.”

“I had some trouble with the car. I had to ask a neighbor for a
ride.” She braced herself, knowing exactly what Eileen’s reaction would be.

“We don’t have a neighbor.”

“Sure we do. He bought the Morris property, remember?”

“Yeah. I remember, but I’ve never seen him, so I was wondering
if he actually lived there. Is he cute?”

“Eileen, you are so predictable.”

“Well? Is he?”

“No.” He wasn’t cute. He was drop-dead gorgeous.

“Then why are your cheeks pink? And...what’s this?” Eileen
touched the bruise on Catherine’s jaw, her eyes narrowing.

“We can talk about it at home. Darius is waiting at his truck,
and I’m sure he has better things to do with his day than sit in a hospital
parking lot.”

“I may be sick, but I’m not senile. You’re avoiding my
question.”

“Just putting off the answer for a while.”

“Why?”

Because I don’t want you to
worry.

Because I’m afraid stress will accelerate
the course of your disease.

“Because this isn’t the place to discuss it. Half the people
here know me, and I don’t want them going to the press.”

“They’re idiots, and all the press hounds are idiots, too.”
Eileen scowled, shooting a hard glare at the guy who held the door open for
them. A total stranger, but Eileen wasn’t picky about who she blamed for
Catherine’s troubles.

The press.

The community.

The police.

The only people she didn’t blame were her church friends.

Blazing sun reflected off black asphalt as Catherine helped
Eileen down the curb and into the parking lot. Darius stood a few yards away,
leaning against his truck, a phone pressed to his ear. He smiled as they
approached, shoving the phone into his pocket and offering Eileen his hand.

“You must be Eileen. I’m Darius Osborne.”

“Nice to meet you, Darius Osborne. I hear you gave my
granddaughter some help this afternoon. Thank you for that.” Eileen clasped his
hand and smiled sweetly.

Very un-Eileen like, but, then, Eileen had been on a
matchmaking mission since Catherine’s release from prison.

“I was happy to help, Miz Eileen.” Darius opened the truck
door, but Eileen held back.

“Doesn’t look like this truck has a backseat.”

“I’m afraid it doesn’t.”

“Then, Catherine can get in first. I’ll get carsick if I don’t
have a window seat.”

“Since when do you get carsick?” Catherine asked.

“Since I started getting chemo. Now, how about we stop
discussing it and get out of here. I’m getting tired and feeling sick.” She knew
how to get her way. Catherine would give her that.

“Fine.” Catherine climbed into the truck, ignoring a fancy
sports car that slowly rolled by. Gawkers. She dealt with them every time she
came to town.

“Give me a hand, will you? I’m not as spry as I used to be.”
Eileen reached out, and Catherine clasped her hand as the sports car U-turned
and headed back toward them.

She wanted to yank Eileen into the car, but was afraid she’d
break brittle bone or tear tight tendons.

“Let me help.” Darius lifted Eileen easily, helping her into
the seat and closing the door, sealing them in as he turned to face the
approaching vehicle.

“Strong guy,” Eileen said.

Catherine ignored her, watching as the car slowed and a blond
teenager stuck his head out the window.

“Murderer!” he shouted, his buddy laughing in the seat beside
him.

This
was why she hated coming to
town, the staring, the whispers, the constant reminder of what people had said
about her in the weeks and months following her arrest. What people were still
saying.

“Go back to prison, witch!” he called again, and Darius
shifted, pulling back his jacket and revealing a shoulder holster and gun. The
teen’s mouth dropped open, his eyes widening as he jerked back, closed his
window.

“That’s one way to get rid of them,” Eileen commented
gleefully, but Catherine hadn’t enjoyed the show.

She’d been taunted before, targeted before, but she’d never
felt as afraid as she did now. If she let herself, she could still feel hands
around her throat, squeezing and choking.

She shivered.

“Ready?” Darius asked as he got behind the wheel.

“Whenever you are, doll,” Eileen responded, and Darius
smiled.

“You’re my kind of gal, Miz Eileen.”

“If only I were four decades younger.” She sighed, and his
laughter filled the truck, rumbling through Catherine as she sat tense and stiff
between the two.

She wanted to relax. She really did, but she was pressed leg to
leg, arm to arm, shoulder to shoulder with a guy who carried a gun and looked
like he belonged on the cover of a magazine.

“Where are you from, Darius? You didn’t just suddenly appear in
the old Morris place, I know that.” Eileen leaned past Catherine to study Darius
more thoroughly. Probably sizing him up as grandson-in-law material.

“Born and raised in South Carolina, ma’am.”

“You’re far from home.”

“I did a stint in the navy. Came back stateside a few years
ago. My job brought me here.”

“You with the police?”

“I’m a security contractor.”

“A bodyguard?”

“If you want.” He shrugged, his shoulder rubbing against
Catherine’s. She wanted to lean away, but that would only call attention to her
discomfort.

“What about your parents? They still in South Carolina?”

“My father has never been in the picture. My mother passed away
eighteen years ago.”

“Sorry to hear that, son. It’s hard to lose a parent. Catherine
knows all about that, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

Eileen elbowed her, but Catherine didn’t plan to offer
details.

“Catherine was five when her parents passed. How about you,
Darius?”

“I was fourteen.”

“That makes you what? Thirty-two or -three?”

“Eileen, stop.”

“He’s our neighbor. I’m trying to get to know him.”

“You’re giving him the third degree, and I want you to cut it
out.”

“I don’t mind. Like your grandmother said, we’re neighbors,”
Darius cut into the argument. Neither woman looked like she was up to a verbal
dispute. Eileen’s sallow complexion and frailty tugged at his heart, reminding
him of the way his mother had looked at the end of her illness, but Catherine
worried him more. Pale skin, pale lips, dark circles beneath her eyes, she
looked worn and overwhelmed.

“She still shouldn’t be giving you the third degree,” Catherine
muttered, and Eileen huffed.

“I’ll do what I want to do. At my age, I’ve earned the
right.”

“Fine. Do what you want. Just leave me out of your matchmaking
schemes.”

Catherine’s bluntness made Darius smile. Melody had always been
sweet and ingratiating, almost too eager to agree with other people. He frowned,
not sure why he was thinking about his ex-fiancée. She was four years in the
past, and he’d stopped mourning what they might have had a long time ago.

“You can’t blame your old gran for wanting to see you with
someone before she dies.”

“Don’t talk like that, Eileen.” Catherine sighed, patting her
grandmother’s knee.

“You don’t want to talk about that, then let’s talk about you
and those bruises you have on your face and neck.”

“I told you—”

“We’d talk at home, but you know what’s going to happen when we
get home. Same thing that happens every time I have chemo. I’m going to climb in
bed, and I’m going to sleep for the rest of the day. You’re hoping by the time I
wake up, I’ll have forgotten, and maybe I will have, so let’s talk about it
now.”

“Eileen—”

“You know, don’t you, Darius Osborne?” Eileen turned her
attention to Darius, and he felt like a kid in the principal’s office.

“It’s Catherine’s story to tell, Miz Eileen.”

“Well, she’s not telling, so you may as well.”

“I wasn’t telling because it’s not a big deal, but if you’re
going to keep pushing, then I guess I don’t have a choice. Some kid came by the
house, trying to scare me. He got a little carried away.” Catherine touched her
neck, and Darius was sure she didn’t believe that any more than he did. A little
carried away didn’t result in welts and bruises.

“Did you call the sheriff?”

“Of course.”

“And he’s looking for this kid?” Eileen asked.

“Yes, they even brought out a K-9 unit,” Catherine offered
quickly.

“Hopefully, that will be enough, because I can tell you right
now, Catherine Marie, I’m not happy about this. You’re out there at that old
house by yourself way too much. What if he comes back and gets a
lot
carried away?”

“No worries. I work for a company that’s ready to install a
security system. We just need to get the word from you and Catherine,” Darius
cut in.

“You work for a security company?”

“Yes, and my boss is at your place now. By the time we get
back, he should have a quote ready for you.”

“No quote necessary. You go ahead and tell your boss to get
started,” Eileen said, and Catherine stiffened.

“We need to get a couple of quotes before we decide.”

“Why? So we can spend two or three weeks making a
decision?”

“So that we can make an informed one.”

“Like we made about central air? We still don’t have that, by
the way.”

“Eileen—”

“I’m dying, Catherine. I want to be comfortable in my home
while I do it.”

“You’re not dying,” she responded, a catch in her voice.

“I’m dying, but maybe not for a while. I still want the
air-conditioning, though.”

“Fine. We’ll get that, and we’ll put in a security system.
Happy now?” Catherine sounded anything but happy, and Darius wanted to tell her
that it was better to be safe than sorry, better to be overprepared than under.
He figured she knew it though, and he kept silent.

“Very. Now, let me be. I’m exhausted.” Eileen settled back into
her seat and into silence, and Catherine fell silent, too. Darius could feel her
tension, though. It radiated out, swirling through the cab until the air was
thick with it.

Sweat beaded her brow, her breathing was hitched and uneven,
her fist white-knuckle tight.

“Are you okay?” he asked, but she didn’t respond, just stared
straight ahead, her body so taut he thought she might break.

He pulled into the breakdown lane, letting the truck idle as he
shifted, looked into her pale face. He recognized a panic attack when he saw
one. He’d had plenty of them in the first year after he’d returned from the war.
“Take a deep breath.”

“I’m fine.” But she inhaled deeply, her body shaking with the
emotions she’d been holding in. As aloof as she seemed, she wasn’t unaffected.
Not by her grandmother’s illness and not by the attack.

“Would it help if I let you drive?”

“I don’t know.” She inhaled again, and he got out of the truck,
gestured for her to do the same.

“Let’s give it a try, okay?”

She nodded, sliding across the seat and nearly tumbling out
onto the pavement. He caught her, his arms latching onto a slim, firm waist.
Heat seeped into his palms, searing through him so unexpectedly he almost
released his hold before she caught her balance.

“Thanks. I’m fine now.” She stepped away, and he climbed back
into the truck, Eileen’s soft snores filling his ears as Catherine got behind
the wheel and put the truck into Drive.

Seconds later, they were moving again, Eileen still snoring
softly. He took off his jacket and tucked it around her frail body.

“Thanks for that,” Catherine said softly, her gaze straight
ahead.

“You love her a lot.”

“She raised me. She’s as close to a mother as I remember
having.”

“Then, you’ll do what’s best for her.”

“You’re talking about the security system again.”

“Yes. I noticed you said you’d have a security system
installed. You didn’t say that you’d have it installed today.”

“You’re very persistent, Darius.”

“Only when I have to be.”

And right now, he had to be.

No matter what Catherine wanted to believe, no matter how she
felt, she and Eileen needed security at the old farmhouse. He was going to make
sure they got it, then he was going to go back to his vacation, back to his
empty house that desperately needed renovation and back to being alone.