Unraveling Midnight (10 page)

Scott was different, though. With him, she’d learned what family meant and his version was unique. His family was a bit broken since his wife’s illness and betrayal, still his vision and plan of family was probably the one her grandma had started with but had modified out of disappointment and self-preservation. Lucy hoped she hadn’t become too callous or self-protecting, though she knew in many ways she had. Scott’s view on family was changing hers in the best ways.

She checked her watch again and cursed. Only ten minutes had passed since she’d checked last. She started turning the heel of the sock, knowing it would take at least ten minutes to work the edge and make the gusset. Then if she had a customer or two, the rest of the hour would fly by.

Busy. It could work.

She could usually knit for hours and be very content, but after the heel was turned, Lucy started searching out busywork. She vacuumed and sorted the baby yarn into shades, which she never did. The norm was to let it all intermingle and be pretty, but she put like with like to make a rainbow instead. And it only took seven minutes.

The bell over the door rang and she hurried to the front, hoping someone needed thirty-six minutes worth of help.

“Put your hands up and don’t move.”

Lucy froze, the customer-ready smile on her face locked in place at the order. Recognition sparked when she got a good look at the man holding the gun. He was the one who had hit Scott. He wore a ski mask, but the eyes were the same and his panicked expression was there. The last time she’d seen him, he’d run away from hitting a man—she wasn’t in any frame of mind to test him on what he would do with a gun.

“I want all the money in the register and all the money in the safe.”

“I don’t have a safe.” The words emerged before she thought about how much they might anger him.

“Yeah, right. Empty the damn register now.”

She hurried, forcing her feet to move when they tried to stay planted to the floor. Her hands shook as she tried to get the register to open. When she’d taken business classes, the instructor had warned about robberies and had recommended the students to be cooperative and nonthreatening.

At the time she’d thought for sure she would fight or argue. Faced with real fear she understood not only the advice, but why people followed it. The robber was violating her space. He could have the money if he wanted it, she just wanted him gone.

She handed over the money, less than five hundred dollars, and stepped back again, seeing the street clearly. Like when Scott had been hit, there was an inopportune lull in traffic. Of course a police officer couldn’t drive by when she really needed one.

“Now the safe,” he demanded.

“I told you I don’t have a safe,” she said, trying not to panic. “You have all the money in the shop right now.”

“Bullshit. Take me to the back. You’re not going to fuck with me.”

The back storeroom only held yarn and a heavy back door she couldn’t imagine using to make a quick escape. Leaving the main room sounded like suicide, but even as she thought to delay, he cocked the gun. The wild look in his eyes prompted her to move without comment or protest. As they walked, he batted at yarn, pushing over displays and exhibiting so much unnecessary violence Lucy’s insides shrank. She was next and the thought solidified when he roughly grabbed her arm and pushed her to the floor of the stockroom.

“Where’s the safe?” he demanded.

“I don’t have one. I only have the yarn and the small fridge back here. I don’t do enough business to need a safe.”

She was babbling, but the words wouldn’t stop. He had to understand.

“No, damn it,” he roared and the huge center shelf she’d spent hours building creaked as it fell, sending hundreds of skeins of yarn to the ground. The shelf itself stopped just above her and she cried out, trying to avoid being crushed by hundreds of pounds of wood and yarn.

“I need the money.”

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, staying low and out of his sight. He seemed to become more irritated every second and the yelling hadn’t stopped and neither had the crashing shelves. If he couldn’t have more money, it looked like he was going to take his irritation out on the shop. If he’d leave—

“Damn it,” he swore again and the scent of the bathroom cleaner she used filled the air. “Give me your money or I’m going to trash this place.”

She peeked up and saw he was already working on destroying it. He poured everything he could find on the yarn around her and the mix steamed ominously. He was going to kill them both.

“There’s no money. I swear there’s no more money. You can have my purse. There’s not much cash, but you can have it.”

He lifted her by her hair. Chunks ripped out before she found her feet and stumbled along with him to the front. The chemicals he’d mixed permeated the main room and she felt lightheaded.

“Get it, now,” he ordered.

She grabbed the bag from under the counter and shoved it at him. The shop phone started ringing and when she saw Scott’s number on the screen, she almost hit her knees. The robber glared at the phone.

“It’s my boyfriend,” she said, forcing the words through her lips. “He knows I’m here and I always answer for him.”

“Fuck,” he said and picked up the phone. He threw it across the room, breaking the phone and the picture it hit as well.

She cringed, covering her head and trying once again to stay out of sight. He spent another few minutes destroying the shop and when she thought he’d turn on her, the bell on the door rang and he ran out. Besides her stinging scalp, she wasn’t hurt, not a bruise on her. She shook with relief and disbelief.

She was fine and could finally get help. When she tried to push up to find her cellphone and make a call for help, dizziness made it imposable for her to walk. She crawled, but the motion made her nauseous. She laid her cheek to the cold hardwood floor. She’d rest for a minute before trying again. Just a minute.

* * * *

Lucy wasn’t answering. Scott tried sending a text, but when she didn’t answer that either, he started to worry. He turned off the grill and covered the buns he’d brought out. The kids were in the process of bringing out the other food, but he couldn’t shake his bad feeling.

“Guys, head to the truck.”

“Why?” Jessie asked. “Did you forget the ketchup?”

“No, I need to go check on Lucy. Hustle.”

Just the mention of Lucy made everyone rush into action. The kids adored her nearly as much as he did. Driving too fast required all his skills and senses and the kids were silent, not distracting him as if they also shared the feeling of impending something. It couldn’t be doom. He’d never be able to associate trouble with Lucy.

When he pulled up to the shop, his worst fears were confirmed. Smoke of some kind filled the windows, but it wasn’t fire smoke. The painfully astringent scent of chemicals burning together assaulted his nose before he even made it to the door.

“Greg, run to the neighbor shop and call the police and fire department. There’s a chemical fire in there.”

The kids didn’t know what that meant, but Greg ran and the others stayed in the truck, not needing to be told to stay out of the way. Scott opened the door and when he nearly passed out, he ran back to the truck and grabbed a rag, wrapping it around his face and eyes before attempting the shop again. With so much smoke and chemicals, he had a hard time pinpointing Lucy’s scent. When he tripped over her, he’d never been so grateful to fall on his ass.

“Lucy? Lucy!”

He didn’t wait for an answer, just grabbed her and pulled her out.

Police sirens blared as he pulled Lucy to the curb. She was unconscious and barely breathing. He took a deep breath of fresh air and blew it into her mouth. It wasn’t CPR but he knew she needed something more than her lungs were getting.

“Sir. Sir, what happened here?” a police officer demanded.

“I don’t know,” Scott said, continuing to help Lucy. She took moderately larger breaths, but it wasn’t right yet. “She needs an ambulance. She was in the building and it’s full of smoke.”

“We’re waiting for the fire department,” the officer said. “Is there anyone else in the building?”

“I don’t think so,” Scott replied.

“We’ve got a CPR kit with a respirator.”

He didn’t want to, but he moved aside so the officers could do their jobs, getting Lucy air until the EMTs could take over. After the ambulance arrived, things moved terrifyingly quickly. The fire department had to use something special to contain the chemicals and even though Scott didn’t understand what it all meant, he heard loud and clear that the shop would need to be gutted. Everything was destroyed. Even though Lucy had yet to wake up, she was alive and would get better.

“Daddy?” Jessie called from the truck as the ambulance pulled away with Lucy in the back. “Is Lucy okay?”

He turned to the truck, hurrying to it with every intention of following his mate. She didn’t know her exact place in his life, but he did. He’d known since his first trip to her store and even if he’d been content to give them both loads of time to get to know each other, his plans had changed when her near lifeless body was in his arms. Lucy was his mate, the love of his life, the woman he wanted and right now she was fighting for her life.

Scott looked in the rearview mirror, three worried faces watching him and, though they didn’t make any noises, each begged for reassurances. “She’ll be okay, guys. We’re going to follow her to the hospital and make sure.”

* * * *

She should have been home in bed, but somehow after she’d been pumped full of oxygen and grilled by police about what happened, Scott had stepped in and tucked her in his truck. The doctors had warned her she might have some lingering fatigue, even though her oxygen levels had returned to normal, and the warning had proven true. She’d fallen asleep in the truck and woke in Scott’s arms on the way into his house. It had crossed her mind to protest, but it had felt so good to be near him after she’d been sure she’d never see him again.

Surrounded by his scent, in his clean, crisp sheets, she wished he was closer. Her shop was a mess—destroyed, according to the police, and she wouldn’t be able to clean it for weeks. Even then, she’d have to get someone else to do it because of the chemicals.

Only cleaning solutions—who’d have thought they could do so much damage? She’d learned about the dangers of acids and bases in school, but had never pictured the damage they could do. Thinking about it made her stomach turn, so she put the ugly thoughts away. She wanted Scott back and to lay her head on his chest, just for a little while.

“Hey, Lucy. How are you feeling?”

Scott was so quiet on his feet, yet his voice never startled her. She looked over and smiled. “Kind of tough.”

He nodded and walked farther into the room, sitting beside her on the bed. “Yeah, nearly dying will do that.”

“I suppose you’ve been there and done that enough times to know.” She didn’t even bother trying to keep a respectable, friendly distance. His lap was close and she wanted to be closer so she tucked her head on his thigh. “He was the same man who hit you. I told the police about seeing him before and I gave them his license plate number. They said they’d find him. That was probably the scariest thing. I’d already seen him hurt someone without remorse so I knew…”

He leaned down with amazing flexibility and kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry you were frightened. I wish I’d gotten there sooner.”

“Nope, you got there just in time,” she said, relaxing deeper in his lap. “I wouldn’t have wanted you to be hurt by him either.”

* * * *

Scott wouldn’t have been hurt. The bastard with the gun who’d picked on a woman in her knitting shop would have been the one with many, many injuries. He’d spoken to Chris after he’d been hit by the dickhead and the license plate was a deadend belonging to the guy’s elderly grandma in a suburb. Scott almost didn’t mind the lack of a trail because it meant finding the bastard would be his job. As things stood, the damage would be delivered soon because, despite the chemicals, Scott had caught the robber’s scent. As soon as Lucy was well enough not to need him, he was going hunting.

“I’ve got the kids playing video games until bedtime. It’s a big treat since I don’t usually let them play during the week,” he said. “So you should be able to get some rest.”

Her grip on his thigh tightened. “You’re not going anywhere, are you?”

He loved that she didn’t want to let him loose, but he hated that it had taken her being afraid to have it happen. She’d been on her way to finding the clinging point in their relationship through loving and laughing. He wished for what they could no longer have. No matter what prompted her behavior, he wasn’t about to push her away or discourage her though, not now. Not ever.