The Return of Brody McBride (39 page)

FALLING FOR OWEN

O
WEN WOKE OUT
of a restless sleep the second the phone rang. The clock read twelve forty-seven. Good news never came this late at night. He hoped this didn’t have anything to do with Shannon, his trouble-prone client. He wished he knew why women stayed in bad situations instead of walking away and never looking back. Shannon had a tendency to waffle under pressure. She’d given her husband far too many chances to prove he wasn’t worth a single one of them.

He hoped she hadn’t listened to whatever sob story Dale conjured to illicit her sympathy, only to draw her in close again. Close enough to hurt her.

Owen grabbed the phone on the second ring. “McBride.”

“Owen, are you okay? He said he hurt you. You have to be all right. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

The last part set off an alarm in his head. Wasn’t the first time she’d set it off either.

“Shannon, slow down. What are you talking about? I’m fine.”

“Dale. He came by, drunk and belligerent as always. Yelling about seeing us together and you taking me away from him.”

Owen raked his fingers through his hair and sat up on the side of the bed, naked and frustrated. Mostly because his bed was empty, but also because his client’s never-ending saga with her ex-husband continued to drag him into her life. He cared about all his clients in some respect, but she’d taken the job he did and the protection it provided her and made it into something more. She’d never quite crossed the line and pushed him for anything, but her reliance on him grew more and more each time they met. He needed some space. The last thing he needed was someone else’s drama mucking up his life.

“Where is he now?”

“He left when I refused to open the door and threatened to call the cops.”

Well, at least she’d gotten that part right this time. In the past, she had opened the door and gotten yelled at and worse. She’d seen the inside of an emergency room more times than he’d like to count because of her ex.

“Good job. Never open the door to him. He disobeyed the restraining order. I’ll contact the police and let them know.”

“So, he didn’t hurt your girlfriend?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Her audible exhale of relief sent up another red flag. Still, he didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. He hadn’t dated anyone in nearly a year. God, had it been that long. His many restless nights confirmed the unhappy truth.

Another call came in on his line. “Hold on, Shannon. I’ve got another call.”

“Um, okay.”

He clicked the
TALK
button to switch lines. “McBride.”

“Owen, it’s Dylan.”

Sheriff Dylan McBride to be exact. His cousin had moved back to town recently with his adopted son. The late-night call probably meant more trouble.

“Hey, man. What’s up?”

“I’m looking for a guy about five-eleven says you slept with his wife. Know who I’m talking about?”

Owen swore. “Dale Monoghan. Released from prison about a month ago. Spent those weeks of freedom stalking and harassing my
client
. Skipped out on the halfway house two days after moving in and has been MIA ever since. My client is on the other line. Dale just left her place spouting off about hurting me and my girlfriend, though I’m not seeing anyone. I’d appreciate it if you sent someone to her place to make sure he’s left and she’s in one piece.”

“I’ll send an officer right away. We’ve got a problem with your name on it at the Walsh place down the road from you. Miss Walsh confronted a trespasser. Your guy is up for a hit-and-run charge and some other misdemeanors. Can you come down and answer some questions?”

“Is she all right?”

“Banged up, but nothing major.”

Owen swore and raked his hand through his hair again. The thought of someone hurting the quiet, beautiful woman pissed him off. His stomach tied in knots. His mind conjured one terrible image after another. He hated to think of her hurt and frightened.

He’d never met his long-distance neighbor, but he’d seen her several times in her yard when he stopped near her place to get his mail. Waving “hey” in passing and placing his order at her shop was the extent of their conversations. He took his nieces into her place once in a while. They loved it. He liked looking at her. He might have asked her out, but she’d always had this off-limits vibe about her, even if she did stare at him sometimes with this odd look about her.

Looks like he’d at least get an introduction tonight, though he didn’t think she’d be happy to meet him if his client’s ex caused her trouble and hurt her. Damn the drunk asshole.

“On my way,” Owen said, putting action to words and grabbing his jeans. “Send a deputy over to 214 Walnut Road. I’ll let my client know they’ll be there soon.”

He switched lines and slid his legs into the jeans. He grabbed a long-sleeve shirt out of the dresser.

“Shannon, I’ve asked the police to come and check on you. Dale harassed a woman and hit her with his car. If he comes back before they get there, do not open the door.”

“Oh my God. Is the woman okay?”

“I don’t know. I have to go see. Do not open the door to anyone but the cops. I’ll speak to you later.”

He hung up and tossed the phone on his rumpled bed. Socks on, he grabbed his boots and stuffed his feet inside and ran down the stairs, grabbing his keys as he headed out the door to his truck. He jumped inside, started it up, and punched the gas, nervous and anxious to get to his neighbor’s place.

Owen’s truck slid to a stop in the driveway behind two sheriff cars and the ambulance. The paramedics’ presence sent an ominous chill up his back. He had no idea how bad the woman had been hurt, but the thought of even one mark on her sent a shaft of guilt through his system. He should have done more to keep Dale behind bars longer.

The headlights and porch lights lit his way around the ambulance to the walkway where the paramedics kneeled next to a blonde, her head bent to her chest as they worked on her feet. Propped on a gurney, her feet bled from multiple cuts. Owen ignored the looks from the deputy and his cousin, Dylan, and went directly to the woman. Kneeling beside her, he cupped her cheek in his palm and asked, “Are you okay?”

Like slow motion, her face rose up and her eyes met his and he fell into their green depths and felt something shift inside his chest. The taut band that took hold of him with the call pulled tighter and stopped his breath. Her eyes filled with unshed tears. She shook and trembled under his hand, but she didn’t speak.

“Hey now, you’re okay. It’s going to be fine. Don’t you worry. I’ll take care of everything.”

“We need to talk,” Dylan said.

Owen gave the woman a smile, despite the circumstances and the lead weight in his gut.

“Wish you could slap the cuffs on
me
this time?”

“It’d be fun. For me. Why, feeling nostalgic?”

“No. What happened?” Reluctantly, he stood and faced Dylan and this mess head on. He stayed right beside the woman. Drawn to her, the urge to protect her kept him rooted to his spot beside her. He wanted to touch her again, offer up some kind of comfort, but refrained, willing himself to be calm and act rationally and not touch a stranger like she was his best friend. And more.

“Claire . . .”

Claire. Pretty name.

“Heard a noise outside and came down to investigate. A man, five-eleven with dark hair, appeared at the back door, where he’d broken several flowerpots and fell over drunk. She went out to find out what the hell was going on. They exchanged words, and he threw a chair through the glass doors.” Dylan indicated he look through the open front door, straight back to the chair lying on its side on the dining table.

“The description fits Dale, but how did you know this has to do with me?”

“The guy, Dale, threatened to hurt her to make you pay for sleeping with his wife.”

“I am not, nor have I ever slept with his wife. She’s a client. Let’s get that straight right now. I represented her in the divorce and helped put him behind bars for hurting her.”

He didn’t know why he felt the need to defend himself so vehemently. He didn’t want Dylan thinking he slept with his clients. On second thought, he didn’t give a shit what Dylan thought. He didn’t want Claire thinking he would do something like that, or that he was dating anyone.

Why did it matter so much? He barely knew her. Still, something compelled him to make the clarification.

Which is probably why he looked her right in the eye when he made the statement. He shot Dylan a cold glare. His cousin hid a smirk that set off Owen’s temper even more.

“How long have you known Claire?” Dylan asked, a note of suspicion in the simple question.

“I don’t. Not really. I’ve seen her in passing from the road when I grab my mail and at her shop in town.”

“He brings the girls in sometimes,” Claire said from beside him. Hearing her voice, so soft and timid, made his gut tighten.

“How is Rain?” Dylan asked.

“She’s great.”

“And happy Brody is back in town. I haven’t seen them in a while, I’ll have to stop by and catch up. He’s another reformed troublemaker.”

Dylan had the luxury of growing up with a father who loved him and did right by him. His and Brody’s uncle wasn’t a drunk. No, he lived a good life with his wife and son and worked hard. They were well off, while he and Brody scraped by all their lives with their alcoholic father.

Where Dylan grew up the high school all-star, he and Brody had been the outcast troublemakers. Well, things changed.

“We’re not cocky punks anymore. Aside from growing up, we took our lumps and learned our lessons. It’s been a long time since I trespassed on Ms. Firths’s property to fish in her pond.” One of his many smaller transgressions. “Now, tell me why Dale attacked Claire for no good reason.”

“He thinks you’re having an affair with his wife,” Claire explained, drawing his attention once again.

He bent next to her and gave her his full attention. “What did he say to you?”

“He wanted to know where my husband is. I told him my ex doesn’t live here, and he said he saw him drive by in his truck. I knew at that point he didn’t mean my ex, but you. I tried to tell him he had the wrong person, but he swore he’d get back at you and he’d hurt me to do it.”

She drifted off for a moment, so he brushed his fingers up and down her arm to draw her attention.

“My head hurts,” she whispered, her eyes going soft and distant again.

“She hit her head on the pavement after he hit her with the car,” Dylan explained. “Knocked her out for a couple of minutes.”

“Honey, you need to go to the hospital. You probably have a concussion.”

“We’re taking her for stitches and to get her head examined in a few minutes,” the paramedics confirmed.

“I’ll come with you.”

“Why?” Claire asked.

“I’ll drive you home. You’re in no condition to be left on your own.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“You’ve got it all the same. In some roundabout way, this is partially my fault. The least I can do is make sure you’re tended to at the hospital and you’re safe when you return.”

Claire considered the shambles of her dining room and patio. The glass scattered on the floor and the giant hole in the sliding glass door. Her mind spun out with all she needed to do to put things right. Call the insurance company and a glass repair service. Clean the floor and board up the window. There went her kitchen budget. The trip to the hospital would probably wipe it out.

“No new refrigerator, I guess.”

“Dinosaurs aren’t as old as that thing you’ve got in your kitchen,” Dylan teased.

Owen’s laugh and smile was sure to pull any woman in the vicinity under his enigmatic spell.

She couldn’t help herself, she laughed with them. If it held a note of hysteria, oh well. She hurt everywhere, her muscles ached, and she felt like crying, but the tears didn’t come.

“The man who did this really hates you,” she said.

“I can handle him. He’s not a nice guy. He beat and mistreated his wife for years. She finally had enough and pressed charges. I convinced her to leave him for good.”

The frustration in his voice spoke of a lot more to the story. “You don’t think she’ll stay away from him.”

“I know he won’t stay away from her. We’ll find him and make sure he pays for hurting you.”

“You think he’ll come back.”

“If he thinks you’re tied to me, he might.”

She appreciated his honesty and ran her shaking hand through her hair and brought it back down to her lap. He took it into his warm, rough hands and held it. Their eyes met again and she fell into the blue depths and his earnest gaze.

“You’ll be okay. I promise.”

Unable to answer, she gave him a nod. She wanted to believe him, but she’d learned over the past few years not to rely on anyone but herself for everything. She’d worked hard to rebuild her life and find a direction that made her feel self-assured and accomplished. She thought she’d put fear behind her and embraced this new life and living alone.

She’d find her center again, once the initial terror wore off and she had her home back to rights. She’d take on a project in the house, maybe finish the master bath. She’d already bought all the supplies. She imagined how it would look once complete and sighed. God, how she’d like to sink into a warm bath, close her eyes, and forget this day ever happened.

“Time to go,” the paramedic said.

Owen stood and backed away, giving her space, but she wanted to call him back. The reassuring feeling she’d had when he held her hand disappeared under the rush of pain and fear she couldn’t escape.

Her head spun and she reached up and put her hand to her aching head and the lemon-sized knot at the back. The paramedics had cleaned off the blood. Right guy gave her an ice pack and she leaned back on it, closing her eyes.

“I’ll be right behind you, Claire. I’ll catch up to you once the doctor sees you,” Owen promised.

“You’re very kind, Mr. McBride, but it’s not necessary. I’m sure I can find my own way home.”

“My name is Owen. Use it,” he pressed gently. “Get used to me hanging around. Until they find and lock up Dale, I’m not taking any chances he comes back and hurts you again. Besides, someone needs to help you clean up this place.”