Whisper In The Dark (The McKinnon Legends-- The American Men Book One) (5 page)

“I’ve never married.”

“Oh,” she was surprised. “What about Marilyn? I thought you guys were fated for each other.”

She had always figured he and Marilyn would have been the ones to defy the odds and make it work. It must have been something drastic for the wedding never to have taken place. She just had no idea how drastic.

“Marilyn died just before the wedding.”

“Oh, Robert, I’m sorry. Now, don’t I feel like the jackass? I’m truly sorry to hear it.”

He shrugged. “Don’t feel bad. There was no way you could have known.”

“I was young, but from what I remember she was a sweet girl.”

And she was a sweet woman, Robert thought.

However, it was ancient history and life moves on with you or without you. He chose to move forward, but not before he wrestled with his own demons and guilt of finding he would go several days without thinking of her. Then days turned into months. Now, after more than fifteen years he hardly thought of her at all, but when he did they were good memories he remembered. He came to the realization several years past that this was the mind’s way of allowing the heart to heal. Otherwise, the wounds would never knit back together.

Standing on the bottom step of the old board porch, he looked back at her as she stood in the frame of the kitchen door, arms crossed. She looked tired and defeated. It was not the Kate he remembered, nor wanted to see.

“It is good to see you, Katherine. I just wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Me too, Robert. Good night.” She waived weakly from the doorway before closing it behind her.

Robert watched from his truck as she systematically turned out the lights inside the old mansion. He stayed until the house was dark except the single bathroom and bedroom window located on the second floor. He wondered if she still slept with the bedside lamp on as she had as a child. He did not have to remind himself that Kate was no longer a child. She was a woman, a desirable woman, and he was attracted to her in a way he had not found himself attracted to a woman in a very long time, if ever.

“Keep your cool, McKinnon. It is just the fact she is in really deep right now. Fight the McKinnon genetics.” Needing to keep a professional distance, he hoped the pep talk would work. He knew this was no time to lose his head. He shifted his focus off her windows and to the house itself.

Jesus, he thought. This old house would be a nightmare to secure. Looking at all the windows, odd angles, and multiple entrances, he knew this would be a huge challenge. It was just what he needed to get his mind off the woman behind those windows. In the blink of an eye, she was now his priority, and he saw how much she needed his protection, both physically and emotionally.

Putting his key into the ignition, he noticed the shadowy figure moving around the corner of the house. Shadow Man was in a black ski mask, black jeans, and dark tee shirt and up to absolutely no good.

Quickly reaching inside the glove box, he pulled his flashlight and 9mm firearm. In one smooth movement, born from years of practice, he snapped off the safety and loaded a round in the chamber.

Heading in the direction he last saw the man, Robert followed the quiet night sounds. Crickets were always a dead giveaway. If they were silent, he knew he was heading in the right direction.

He did not have the element of surprise. Whoever was watching the house knew he was here, making it all the more curious as to why the person was still hanging around. Perhaps they were waiting for him to leave, not banking on him getting a glimpse.

Katherine was extremely vulnerable psychologically and physically. He knew it and so would any man attempting to harm her. His stomach churned at the thought of the way he had found her asleep on the front porch, completely unguarded, completely defenseless in sleep. Perhaps the dark figure was there when he arrived and he beat Shadow Man to her.

“Jesus, Kate. You’re exposed. I’m spending the night like it or not.” The thought rolled through his mind. At the first opportunity, he was calling for back up. His brother, Chase, and his sister’s husband, Reece Davenport, could assist him. He would have liked to have his youngest brother Mason around, but God only knew where he was at the moment.

Going around to the backside of the old barn, he heard an engine start and saw the truck fishtailing in the gravel of the pasture driveway. Whoever was driving had taken the back light bulb out leaving the license plate in darkness.

He had a split second to make a decision.

He either made a run for his vehicle to follow the fleeing pickup truck, leaving Katherine alone in the old farmhouse, or he went back to the house taking a defensive position. He could not risk the truck being a red herring to draw him off and away from Kate. If she was now a target, as he suspected she was, he would get his chance to track the man down. Shadow Man had failed in whatever his goal was tonight, and intuition was telling him this guy would return to finish it.

He headed back to the house by way of the bunkhouse. George was not safe either and he was not looking forward to the conversation he was going to have with the crotchety old geezer. George had never been what one would call pleasant. Call him loyal, shrewd, astute, but never call him pleasant. He was, however, without a doubt, completely devoted to Katherine and had been since the day Karl, Kyle, and Krystal brought her home from the hospital. Robert knew emphatically George would certainly take offense to being told he needed to sleep in the main house. Something, to Robert’s knowledge, George had never done even a single night. Perhaps he could put a different spin on it by saying he needed him to keep an eye on Katherine and could only do that by moving into the main house. It might work if he put that turn to it.

Silently stepping up onto the porch of the bunkhouse, his years of experience were not what told him he should be cautious. The door was cracked open.

Not a good sign, he thought.

The warning bells were tolling loudly and his pulse was beating hard in his throat. Standing to the side of the door with his back flat to the wall, he used the palm of his hand to push the plank door open the rest of the way on it creaky hinges. Any element of surprise was shot, yet somehow he already knew there was nothing here for him to fear. The intruder had already fled the scene.

“Damn it to hell! George!” Robert rushed forward, but not before securing the room which in its heyday easily housed thirty men. Taking his index and middle finger he searched for a pulse praying for the best, but fully expecting the worst. George was eighty-nine years old. A blow like this could kill even a healthy young man. God, he hated to think what it would do to Kate if he had to tell her George was dead, too.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Robert found a pulse. It was weak, but he would take it any way he could get it. The gash behind the old man’s right ear was bleeding profusely and his breathing was ragged and raspy.

Scooping him up as if he weighted no more than a child, Robert rushed to the back door of the house and pounded loudly with the toe of his boot.

“Kate! Open up!” Yelling loudly, he figured she was upstairs and probably asleep by now.

He pounded again and waited for what seemed an eternity until he heard her call him through the curtain covered glass.

“Robert, is that you?” Kate was more then a little surprised.

He saw the curtain flip open and drop again over the window which he noted was large enough for a grown man to crawl through.

“Yeah, it’s me. Open up. George is hurt. Hurry up.”

“Just keep your pants on! I cannot find the right key. Shit, shit, and double shit,” she mumbled as she wrestled with the massive ring of antique keys.

Robert heard her through the glass fumbling with the ring. She dropped that massive ring twice before the antique skeleton key opened the lock as old as the house itself.

“Oh God, Robert, what happened?” she asked fumbling through the kitchen drawers to find a towel to help stem the flow of blood.

“I’m not sure. Call 911 and tell them to send an ambulance.” Robert placed the old man on the sofa where he would be more comfortable. Taking the icepack from her hand along with the towel, he placed gentle pressure on George’s wound.

She called 911 from the phone in the kitchen. Robert listened as the operator asked Kate some questions. He knew the minute she had had enough conversation.

“How the hell am I suppose to know, you backwater gossip monger? And what difference does it make anyway? That’s right, absolutely none. And that is the first intelligent thing you have said all night! Just send the damn ambulance! Now, move it!” She slammed the phone back on the receiver.

Robert just had to smile in spite of it all.

Katie may have grown up to become Katherine, but that temper was still the same, and under it all was the spitfire, hothead he remembered her to be as a young teen. At least her spirit was not broken. He was grateful for that, he supposed.

“Always said she would make a great general,” George said softly.

George’s weak comment brought Robert’s eyes away from Kate. That was how he was beginning to come to think of her. Katherine sounded too formal, and she certainly was not a Katie, not any longer. She was strong, intelligent, and tough. She was a Brandenburg. He just prayed she was a survivor.

“Probably right, George. I’m glad to see you’re back with us. Just hang tight. Help is on the way, and once you’re stronger we can talk about what you might remember, but not now.”

George weakly nodded and shifted his eyes behind Robert’s shoulder. He knew she was there. He could smell her. A heady combination of soap and shampoo drifted over him as she left small drops of water on the antique braided rug. It was the first time he noticed she was dripping wet. She must have been in the shower.

“He is awake, thank God!” She dropped down on her knees beside the couch. “George, I’m right here. Don’t you dare die on me,” she commanded taking his weathered, callused hand in her own.

“Too mean for that. You said so yourself.” The old man winked.

“Well, I was right, as always. Help is on the way. You just rest easy.” She smoothed the stray hairs away from his eyes.

Standing above her, Robert got a glimpse of flesh all the way to her navel when her robe gaped. He suddenly felt possessive knowing the paramedics would be here any minute, and the thought of her half naked in front of them was almost more than he could take.

“Go put on some clothes, Kate. You don’t want to have to spend the remainder of the night at the hospital in your bathrobe.” 
And nothing else
. Robert’s mind finished the thought before he could even stop it. “Crap,” he said under his breath closing his eyes. Here he was in the middle of a crisis and thinking with the wrong head. What was wrong with him?

“I’m not leaving him.” She nudged Robert over a step or two with her body so she could get closer to George who lay prone on the sofa.

“Damn it, Kate. Please just do what I asked you and go put some clothes on.”

She shot to her feet, eyes on fire.

“My name is Katherine and you can go straight to hell!” she said poking a finger into his chest. “I’m not one of your hired hands, and I’m certainly not Marilyn who would have rolled over for you. I’m tired and not about to put up with your macho-Texas-cowboy-bullshit. This is my house, and I will parade around as naked as the day I was born if I so choose.”

She drew another breath prepared to argue further with him when George silenced her.

“Katherine Delight Brandenburg, just do as the boy asks. He is being reasonable. You are not.”

“No, George, I’m staying right here until the paramedics arrive. What can I do?” she softened.

“You can go put some clothes on. I’m going to be fine, Katie Bug, but the boy is correct. You cannot go traipsing around the hospital like a dime store floozy in your nightgown. It will be a few minutes before the leeches get here. Go,” he weakly motioned toward the stairs.

She hesitated and then looked at Robert.

“I’m sorry. I should not have said that about Marilyn. It was insensitive.”

Robert felt sure that was all he was going to get and it was more then he expected. He nodded and then inclined his head toward the stairs. “Go. I’ll watch him until you get back.”

“I’ll be right back. I promise,” she said patting George’s hand.

She leaped up the stairs making quick work of pulling on a pair of faded jeans, pink high top sneakers, and an I “heart” N.Y. t-shirt. Thank goodness she was small busted, a bra was always optional. Running a brush through her wet hair, she pulled it back out of her face with a red elastic band to dry naturally. She brushed her teeth and bounded back down the stairs feeling more comfortable, but she was still a little miffed at Robert’s attitude. She was not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was right. She felt certain he was probably the kind of man who was always right and confident in the knowledge. Yet, he was not cocky.

Much to her relief, George was looking better by the minute. Due to Robert’s administrations, the bleeding had stopped and the blood wiped off of George's face. Entering the living room, she got in on the tail end of the conversation which undoubtedly centered on George’s assailant.

“I think so too, boy. I could have taken the rat bastard if he had come at me like a man.”

Not taking one bit of offense to being called boy, Robert heard the frustration in George’s voice. He could well imagine how growing old was difficult for a man like George. Hell, he probably was going to be the same way himself when the years and nature caught up to him.

“No doubt you could have at least given him a run for his money. You still have fire in you, George,” Robert agreed not wanting to hurt the old man’s ego. “Do you remember anything?” he asked as he noticed Katherine’s return.

“No, I didn’t see a damn thing. The sniveling rat-bastard-son-of-a-bitch hit me from behind before I could even get the lights on.” He reached back and gingerly touched the gash on the back of his head pulling away two bloody fingertips.