Rescued
Three’s Allowed Series, Book Two
By L.E. Harner
Copyright
Rescued is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2010 by Laura Harner
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Hot Corner Press Smashwords Edition
ISBN 978-1-937252-07-6
Warning: All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any many without written permission, except for brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away, as it is an infringement on the copyright of this book.
Contact the publisher for further information:
Dedication
To every the day heroes who work to keep others safe.
A special thank you to DSW Photography for the beautiful cover image and to my friend and editor, Mercy Celeste.
Table of Content
Chapter One
Graeme fumbled for the phone in the dark. He hated middle-of-the-night calls. He’d thought he’d escaped them when he’d traded his Phoenix detective shield for the small-town sheriff’s badge, but a quick glance at his clock showed it was two thirty-one in the morning, which meant someone was probably dead.
“Kennedy,” he said, already turning on the light, ready to write down the location of the scene.
“Sheriff, it’s Sally. Sorry to disturb your…sleep,” she said.
He noticed the pause, knew she was fishing. She’d been trying to dig into his personal life ever since he’d arrived and had made it known she was available, if he was interested. He wasn’t.
“What is it, Sally?” he asked, keeping his tone neutral.
“Got a strange report of a domestic at the rest area. Tim is just south of Flag, tied up with a motor vehicle accident. He’ll be there at least another hour. There’s a fatality involved. You said to give you a call before I called in Department of Public Safety. Do you want to check it out? It’s probably just some kids. The caller hung up and didn’t leave many details.”
“I’ve got it. Send what you’ve got to my unit. I’ll be on the road in five.”
* * * * *
Oh God. How could this be happening? Elizabeth wiped the blood from her eye and examined the car, trying to figure out the safest way to help.
The driver had saved her life, and now he was unconscious with the front tires of his SUV hanging on the edge of the precipice. It was a clear drop of a hundred feet to the red rocks below. She needed to make the vehicle stable and then get out of there before anyone found her.
If she could prevent the SUV from rolling forward until he regained consciousness or until help arrived, the stranger could get out. He would be okay. He had to be.
She limped forward, carrying the biggest rock she could lift, and lodged it in front of the rear tire. She returned again and again until both rear tires were wedged tight.
Her head whipped around at the sharp snap of a twig behind her. Then a soft, purely evil laugh sliced through the cold night air.
“Looks like you’re fresh out of Prince Charmings again, Elizabeth. Funny how they all seem to disappear on you. I wonder why that is? I think it’s fate. You’re mine, and no one else is allowed to have you. Not ever. Come on now, Elizabeth. It’s time to go home. We can kiss and make up.”
There was nowhere to run. He would catch her, and this time he would kill her. She was sure of it.
Movement from inside the SUV caught her attention. She glanced down in time to see a strong hand raise a gun through the broken window. In one smooth motion, the man aimed toward the brush and fired.
The SUV slid forward. Ears ringing from the gunshot, she didn’t hesitate. She yanked the door opened, then pulled the man’s arm with every bit of strength she possessed. He came free from the crushed metal and tangle of seat belt just as his vehicle lost the war with gravity.
*
Michael tumbled out of his SUV and bowled the woman over. Rolling fast, he covered her with his body, gun pointing into the brush, eyes searching for the source of that disembodied voice. He could hear nothing after the retort of the gun except the sick crunch of his custom hybrid Tahoe as it died a humiliating death at the bottom of the canyon. Shit. He’d just bought that car!
The trip had started so beautifully, his new beginning. No more working all night, no more losing track of the days, no more heart attack waiting to happen. Thirty wasn’t old; he was just overworked in an obsessive-compulsive kind of way.
Enwright Security had grown to be the top high-tech security business in the country and had nearly eaten him alive in the process. Not that he hadn’t loved every bit of starting his own company. He had. But when one of his top technicians died at his workbench after another fourteen-hour shift, Michael knew it was time to make a change.
A little over two hours ago, he’d loaded a suitcase, laptop, and a few other gadgets into his Tahoe and headed north from Phoenix with no particular destination in mind. He’d stopped at the Sunset Point rest area, resisted the temptation to call the office and check on the production statistics, and just stood gazing into the gathering darkness. No destination meant no reservations, no plans. He felt lost. With a sigh, he’d gotten back into the car.
He’d noticed the woman first. She’d burst from the backside of the restrooms, running toward the brush with quick looks over her shoulders. A moment later, a man dressed all in black gave chase.
Her face had been a mask of terror, and Michael hadn’t hesitated. He’d pushed the four-wheel drive into action and barreled over the curb and into the brush surrounding the rest area, following the path of the man. He’d figured it was a domestic dispute and reasoned if he could get to the man, he could calm the situation. If not, he’d knock the asshole out. Either way, he couldn’t sit by and watch a man chase a woman into the wilderness.
The gunshots came as a complete surprise. Four bullets right to the windshield. The bullet-resistant glass did its job, but the stars splintering across the front effectively blocked his view. The Tahoe pitched over a boulder, and Michael had a terrifying glimpse of the edge of the world before his head slammed into the door frame and the lights went out.
All that had led to his current predicament. He was lying on top of a beautiful woman, his gun in his hand, looking into the night for a rat bastard he now planned to kill.
“Sheriff. Drop the gun, and lock your hands behind your head, motherfucker,” the voice a low growl behind his ear.
Michael turned his head slightly only to find the barrel of a gun pressed against his temple. He dropped the gun. The woman beneath him whimpered.
*
Graeme’s heart rate was nicely elevated. He cuffed the suspect where he lay, needing to secure him before he risked a look at the woman. Jerking the man’s arms, he dropped him unceremoniously and was rewarded with a muffled thud as the suspect’s face hit the ground.
“Ma’am, are you okay? I need you to stand up slowly with your hands to the side where I can see them.”
He wasn’t taking any chances. They could both be assholes, and he was out here without backup. The woman got to her knees and pushed herself up from the ground, careful to keep her hands in view.
“Turn around,” he directed.
She turned slowly, her long sweep of dark auburn hair hiding her face. It didn’t matter. There was only one head of hair like that. Elizabeth Ashford. Fuck.
He reached her in two strides, brushed the hair back from her face, and saw the bruises and blood. “Elizabeth, honey, are you okay? Where’d you come from?”
He walked her over to sit far enough away from the suspect and lowered her to the ground. Kneeling beside her, he said, “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. He’s not going to hurt you anymore. Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ve got you now. Can you talk? Can you tell me what happened?”
“Beat me,” she gasped and then she pulled away from his arms and ran a few steps into the woods and vomited.
He figured she’d want a few minutes to recover, so he sauntered over to the bastard that beat the most beautiful woman he knew and the only one he’d ever loved. He grabbed a fistful of hair as dark as his own and pulled the man’s head back to take a look. One eye was swollen shut while the other showed a slice of steely blue peeking out between swollen lids. Red sand and pebbles clung to the blood that covered the unfamiliar face. So it wasn’t her bastard husband after all.
He dropped the head and was again gratified by the sound of flesh on ground and a small moan at the rough contact. He checked the man for more weapons, removed his wallet and his cell phone.
“What’s your name, asshole?” he asked as he gave a rough kick, his boot connecting with the suspect’s hip in order to turn him over.
The man made a harsh sound that could have been a laugh, spit blood and dirt from his mouth, and said through swollen lips, “Fuck you!”
Graeme smiled. He would enjoy questioning this prick. He flipped open the man’s wallet, just as Elizabeth came back to the small clearing.
“Elizabeth, do you know this here—” he glanced down at the man’s driver’s license “—Michael Enwright?” The name was familiar, but he wasn’t sure where he’d heard it before.
“No, wait, Graeme, you’ve got it all wrong, and don’t call me that,” she said running over to the downed man, even as he tried to stop her.
“It was Barry that beat me. This man saved my life. Barry very nearly killed him, too. He shot at him and caused the accident. Help me,” she pleaded as she tried to help Enwright sit up.
*
This was all such a mess. What was she going to do? She probably needed a doctor. She knew her ribs were bruised where Barry had kicked her. He usually confined the blows to her stomach and thighs, places that wouldn’t leave a mark. He’d been especially violent tonight. She’d recognized the signs, known it was coming. Yet she hadn’t been able to divert him, and the rage came on fast and furious. He’d worked himself up as he enumerated her failings, ending on the tragically familiar accusations that she didn’t love him and she was having an affair.
It was hard to argue with the first. She didn’t love Barry. An affair was out of the question. The only man she’d ever wanted was standing in front of her wearing a badge, and he was a big part of the reason she’d stayed married to Barry for as long as she had.
* * * * *
Fuckin’ cunt! She had no business running. Sneaking out the Goddamn backdoor of the bathroom. She’d planned to run away all along. It was why she’d whined for the last thirty minutes about having to go pee at the next rest stop.
He wouldn’t have hurt her, not really. Sure he’d given her a tap, but she’d had it coming. He’d planned to take her to the cabin where he could really teach her a lesson before they made up. Now she’d gone and caused all this trouble. It was her fault he’d had to shoot that prick in the fancy SUV. He knew who it was, though. He finally knew who her fucking boyfriend was. The fancy Enwright prick. Rich bastard. Asshole had practically fucked her on the ground with her husband standing there watching. Goddamn it!
He would make them pay. Elizabeth was his. Nobody took what was his. Nobody! He’d learned things in Afghanistan that would make her pretty little head spin. He would make her watch. He would skin Enwright alive, cut off his dick, and feed it to her. Then she would learn. Elizabeth would learn.
He pressed his knuckles against his temples. Have to calm down, have to think. Once Enwright was dead, she would settle down, but now they couldn’t go home. They could still go to the cabin. No one knew where that was. Not even Elizabeth. Need money. Enwright has money. Just need to get some of Enwright’s money before I kill him. Need a plan. Need a plan. Need a plan.
* * * * *
“You’re sure Lizzie?” Graeme asked, using her preferred name and deliberately blocking her view of Enwright, who sat in the dirt rubbing his wrists. “I can keep you safe, no matter what’s going on,” he added.
“For Christ’s sake, she said she was sure. We are both victims here, Sheriff. I’ve never met the woman before in my life. I saw a man chasing her, I followed. He shot at my car, I wrecked. I shot at where I thought he might be hiding, and my Tahoe started to slide off the edge. The lady helped pull me from the SUV, and I was covering her body while I looked for the gunman. You know the rest.”
The radio at his side squawked. “Sheriff Kennedy, come in. We have an emergency near your location. Possible kidnapping. State police and FBI are on their way. Repeat, we have an emergency—”
“Sally, will you please remember to use alternate channels and proper protocol under unusual circumstances. I’ll call you on my private line, standby.”
He stepped away to get some privacy, uneasy about leaving Elizabeth so close to the Enwright fellow.
“What is it, Sally?” he demanded as soon as the call connected.
He listened, grunted directions, and disconnected.
“Do you know what that call was all about, Enwright?” he asked.
“I have a pretty good idea,” Michael answered, a slight smile on his face.
“It seems your fucking Tahoe is equipped with a satellite tracker and called the police automatically when the crash was recorded and you didn’t answer.”
Enwright didn’t respond, just waited.
“Why didn’t you tell me who you are?” Graeme gritted out through clenched teeth.
“You didn’t ask. You were too busy dropping me face-first into the dirt and kicking me. God forbid you worry about who I am or what might have happened to me. If you’d like to return my phone, I imagine I can at least keep the FBI from showing up here,” Michael said, holding his hand out for his phone.
He hit the speed dial.
“Shit, Michael, are you okay? It’s a royal cluster fuck here. The FBI are all over the place. They said it was likely a kidnapping. What the hell’s going on? First you need a break, like some Mr. Goddamn Sensitive. Now you trashed the Tahoe.”
“I’m all right, Jolynn. It was a freak accident. Call off the dogs. Tell the FBI to go home. I suppose I’ll stay around here a day or two to supervise the extraction of the Tahoe. Have Walker ferry up the spare Tahoe, and he can take this one back. I’m afraid we’ll have to salvage it for parts. Call and order another one and have Walker use the same specs for customizing,” he said. “Send me all new technology. You know what I need. Send it care of the local sheriff’s office.” He ended the call.
He paused, thinking of what else he needed to do. In the momentary silence, he heard the sheriff asking the woman—asking Elizabeth, he amended—where she would stay. Her tearful reply that she had nowhere to go tugged at his heart.
Michael interrupted. “Elizabeth, I’m sorry, I know we’re meeting under unusual circumstances, to say the least. My name is Michael Enwright, and my company specializes in security. Considering what we’ve been through together tonight, I want to offer you all of the resources available to Enwright Security. We’ll stop your husband. My company will put you up in a secure location while we track his movements. Believe me, we’ll find him. It’s the least I can do for your saving my life,” he finished sincerely.
“Like hell you will. Lizzie will be staying with me. We’re old friends. I can keep her safe, and I have plenty of room. Besides, this is a matter for the local officials,” the sheriff said stiffly.
“If that’s the case, Sheriff, you know the Phoenix Police Department will be taking over, and you’ll be shut out. Now that you know who I am, I imagine you know what I can do, what strings I can pull. I suggest we work together. I’ll have access to far more resources than you will, but I’ll be willing to share. I won’t even press charges against you. On one condition.”
“What’s that?” Graeme asked suspiciously.
“I’ll be staying with you, as well. Her husband got a good look at me. He’ll know who I am by tomorrow, if he watches the news. He’ll likely come looking for both of us, and together, you and I can keep her far safer than one of us alone.
Chapter Two
Neither man had said much when they’d arrived at Graeme’s house. By unspoken agreement, he’d taken Elizabeth inside while Enwright scouted the perimeter. Now Elizabeth was already asleep, knocked out from the painkillers administered by the paramedics.
Graeme showed Enwright to his room, left him some clean clothes, and pointed out the shower before heading to the kitchen for a drink. He winced a little while later when Enwright walked into the kitchen wearing nothing but boxers and bruises.
“Drink?” he offered.
“If there’s a God in heaven, that’ll be a single malt whisky you’re offering,” Enwright said.
“It is,” he confirmed, with what felt like his first smile in hours.
“Then I take back almost every bad thought I’ve had about you tonight, Sheriff.”
“Graeme. Call me Graeme”
“Right then, Graeme, and you should call me Michael,” he said and poured himself a glass before walking restlessly around the kitchen.
Graeme watched Michael move around the room and realized the man was actually working, checking the locks and window casements. He shouldn’t forget that Michael was an expert in security and protection.
Michael was a powerful-looking man, with broad shoulders and muscled arms. There was a vicious red band crossing his chest where the seatbelt gripped him during the crash. It would darken with bruise tomorrow. He eyed the dark chest hair then his gaze followed the light trail of hair down the classic six-pack abs until it disappeared beneath the waistband of his boxers. He wasn’t sure the jeans he’d loaned Michael would fit over his well-developed thighs.
When he glanced back up, he saw that Michael was watching him with what looked suspiciously like amusement in his one good eye.
Caught, Graeme said, “Sorry, I was wondering if I should throw your jeans in the washer, I don’t think the ones I loaned you are going to fit.”
“I’ll take a pair of shorts or sweats for the morning if you have them. I’m a bit overdressed for sleep right now,” Michael said, a smile tugging at his mouth.
Graeme ignored Michael’s teasing. He handed him a bag of frozen peas from the freezer. “Put this over your eye. You should’ve let the paramedics take a look at you, too.”
“I’m all right. It was mostly the gravel that was hard to get out in the shower. I would take some ibuprofen if you have it and then a quick tour of the rest of the place. I’ll get the specifics for the security system in the morning, but I want to get a feel for what we’ll need to set up. I like the location, nice and isolated but with plenty of clearing around the house. Shouldn’t be hard to set up a perimeter alarm.”
He led the way around his home and watched as Michael examined every window, checking the locks. He paused outside Elizabeth’s room, hesitant to violate her privacy.
Michael nodded. “I know,” he whispered. We’ll just go in and out quickly. I won’t be able to sleep if I don’t check every window, and hers is the most important one.”
Together they walked quietly across the room, and he noted Michael kept his eyes focused on the window, not sparing a glance for Elizabeth. Graeme wasn’t so noble. He walked to the bed and gently pulled the sheet up to cover her exposed shoulder and pressed a quick kiss to her temple before they walked to the door.
“Does she know you’re in love with her?” Michael asked, closing the door gently behind them.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Graeme’s fingers went to his head, and he ran his hand through his hair. “We’re friends. At least, we were friends. We’ve known each other since school. We drifted apart when she married and I took a job up here, but I think we’re still friends. I’d do anything for Lizzie,” Graeme said.
“Yep, you love her,” Michael said with a grin and led them away from her door. “You should tell her. Not tomorrow maybe, what with everything else going on, but soon. It might help her.”
“Shut the fuck up. You don’t understand. You don’t know what you’re talking about. We’ve been friends for years. Of course I love her, just not the way you mean. It’s complicated,” Graeme finished lamely.
Heading into his bedroom, Michael said, “Yes, I can see that. I’m an expert at seeing what people don’t want me to see. Now unless you want me to test my next theory, get out. I’m going to bed.” He turned his back on the sheriff and slipped off the borrowed boxers. He took his time pulling back the sheets before collapsing facedown onto the crisp cotton with a sigh.
He smiled to himself when Graeme finally shut the door and walked away. That was two questions answered. Graeme did love Elizabeth, but given the amount of time he’d stood in the doorway and stared, it was a safe bet he liked men, too. It wasn’t the Michael swung, but he liked to know as much as he could about the people he worked with.
Jolynn’s preliminary report indicated the sheriff was a former Phoenix detective, before taking the job in the small town halfway to Flagstaff. Was that why he’d left his job to come north? He knew life could be hell for a gay man in a macho occupation. A gay man in love with another man’s wife? Well, it wasn’t his concern unless it had something to do with keeping Elizabeth safe and catching the bastard that had tried to kill them both.
The supplies he’d requested would be here by noon, and the team would have the windows and perimeter alarms up before dinner. He wanted to work fast, because Barry wouldn’t be a patient man. As far as they knew, Barry was unaware that Graeme was the local sheriff, but all bets were off once the news media started reporting.
Although a domestic dispute was hardly newsworthy, one involving the head of Enwright Security would bring out the vultures. He’d lived his life as a relative recluse as far as the press was concerned yet hardly a month went by without a request for a personal interview. This would set off a feeding frenzy. As if the life of a man who ran security could be interesting to anyone.
* * * * *
Graeme fisted his straining cock. Damn. After years of fantasizing about her, Lizzie was here, sleeping under his roof. So why was he in alone in his bed stroking his cock over another guy?
That fucking Michael was hot. H-O-T! The little trick in the bedroom had been clever. It had been a test, not an invitation. In just a few hours, Michael had figured out that Graeme loved Lizzie and yet was still attracted to men. A man that observant would make a dangerous enemy.
He’d never told Lizzie it was his desire for men that kept him from completely committing to her when they were younger. He’d pushed her into another man’s arms, rather than let her know the truth of it. Now that other man had nearly killed her.
Firmly, Graeme turned his imagination away from Michael to Lizzie. Despite his decision to move on all those years ago, he’d never stopped loving Lizzie. She’d been the reason his last lover had walked away. He’d said he couldn’t compete with a memory.
His hand moved faster, eyes closed, picturing silky auburn hair spilling over his stomach as Lizzie’s dusty pink lips wrapped around his cock. He wanted to see her jade green eyes fill with a sleepy passion.
He cupped his balls with one hand, feeling the weight of them draw up as his other hand moved faster. Michael showed back up in the fantasy to lick his balls while Lizzie took him deep in her throat. Biting back a moan, he made two more short strokes before cum spurted white hot across his chest. He lay there panting, the vision of Michael and Lizzie together fresh in his mind. God, now that was really hot.
He was wrenched from his fantasy by a bloodcurdling scream.
* * * * *
It’s not real, it’s not real. Just a dream. Still, she couldn’t stop the sobs that followed the scream that awakened her. Everything hurt. Her ribs, her stomach, her head. Her heart. She knew she had to stop crying or Barry would start beating on her again.
The door flew open, and a man she didn’t know burst through, sweeping the room with a gun in his hand. She started to scream again.
“Shh, Lizzie, you’re all right. I’ve got you. You’re safe now,” Graeme’s voice soothed, as he came in quickly behind the first man. He climbed on the bed and stroked her hair.
“It’s clear, Graeme,” said the stranger. “I’ll get her meds and a glass of water.” He left her alone with Graeme.
Graeme? How had he gotten here? Where was here? Everything felt fuzzy in her head.
“Graeme, is it really you?” she asked.
“Yes, little bit,” he said, using his pet name for her. “You’re at my place, and you’re safe.”
The stranger returned and sat on the opposite side of the bed, holding out a glass and a pill. “Take this. You’ll feel better.”
Panic started to rise, again. “I don’t—”
“Shh, Lizzie, it’s okay. This is Michael, remember? He saved you. We’re going to keep you safe. Take your pill. Now lie back down, sweetheart. We’ll talk in the morning. You’re safe for tonight.”
“Oh Graeme, I really fucked everything up,” she said.
“No, honey. You said Barry beat you. That’s not your fault. You don’t need to talk about it now, it’ll wait for morning.”
She sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. “I need to, need to—you should know that he wasn’t always like that. Barry’s in the Army, you know? He gets deployed a lot. It’s been getting to him. This last time…well, he wasn’t right when he came back from his last deployment to Afghanistan. He’s always been jealous, but he started accusing me of cheating on him, of not loving him. I came home from work about a month ago, excited because Allen...my boss—”
She swallowed. “Allen promoted me to vice president in charge of operations. It’s a big job. I work at Brooker Technologies, and the promotion was one I’d worked hard for. Barry wanted me to turn it down, said I’d only gotten it because I was sleeping with Allen. It was so absurd, I laughed. Allen is…was—” she swallowed again “—was a mentor, not a lover. Not ever.
“I should’ve recognized the danger. I shouldn’t have laughed. Barry exploded. He hit me, screamed at me, and called me a whore,” she said quietly.
“When I got away, I locked myself in the bedroom and packed a bag. There was no way I was going to stay with him after that. Then I heard him sobbing. Great wracking sobs, and I let guilt override my common sense. I went to him, and he told me stories about Afghanistan, about the horrors he’d seen. He promised to get help, begged my forgiveness.
“God help me, I stayed. If I’d only left that first time, maybe nothing else would’ve happened. He seemed okay for the next little while, quiet, but better. He said the doctor had given him meds, said he was getting help. We still weren’t okay, I was having a hard time forgiving what he’d done to me, but he seemed to be really trying.
“Then we had another fight, and he hit me again. I swear, it was the last straw. I was packing to leave when he told me about the tumor. The doctors found a brain tumor, and he was dying. He said it was causing him to act out when he didn’t mean it. He begged me not to let him die alone.” She knew the men would hear the bitterness in her voice now, but she needed to get it all out. “How could I leave a dying man, right? What kind of a cruel bitch would that make me? I stayed but I refused to stay in the same room with him and made him promise to take me to talk to his doctors.”
“Then last week…Oh God! Allen was killed walking to lunch. He left and never came back. The police said he was pushed in front of a bus, but no one saw who did it. When I came home from work, I could tell Barry already knew. He had that secret smile I hate so much.
“I tried to be smart and not let on that I suspected him. I was scared, seriously scared he’d kill me. He knew I’d figured it out though, and he went wild. He kicked and punched, and it was like nothing because I knew he’d killed Allen and if I fought back, he would kill me, too.
“I just wanted it to end, wanted to wait until he was asleep or passed out so I could get away. Instead, he knocked me out and when I woke up I was shackled. He made me call in to work and tell them I needed a break after Allen’s death.
“He kept me home and shackled for the past week. He acted like everything was normal, like I wanted to be there and we were happy. If I complained or tried to get away he beat me again. The only way to avoid his fits was to pretend it was all business as usual. It was so bizarre, I was tethered to the wall, and cooking him dinner like a happy little wife. Just so he wouldn’t beat me. God!
“Tonight he was taking me to a cabin, but I don’t know where. He told me it was the last phase of my punishment, and then we would both be free. I’m sure he planned to kill me. I told him I had to go to the bathroom, promised I wouldn’t leave him. He let me go, and you know the rest.”
Her eyes felt heavy. The drugs had kicked in while she’d been talking. She lay back against her pillow and waited for the recriminations. The men were silent for a long time.
“I don’t understand—” Graeme began, his voice quivering.
“It’ll wait until morning,” Michael interrupted. “Let her sleep now.”
She saw their gazes meet, and she didn’t recognize the look on Graeme’s face. Her mind couldn’t keep a hold of reality. She was sinking, her eyes heavy, questions slipping away on a cloud. Wanted to know…so much. Safe for now. Could sleep…safe for now. Graeme’s house. In a final moment of consciousness, she thought that Graeme’s boyfriend was hot and they were both nude. She would have giggled if she could have. It was the very last thought she had before she slipped into a deep slumber.
Graeme stroked Lizzie’s hair until her breathing was deep and even. He looked up to find Michael watching him. Their gazes locked for a long minute, and he wished he knew what the other man was thinking.
“She should sleep through the night now,” Michael said, finally.
“Yes,” Graeme agreed and got up from the bed. He was going to kill Barry.
* * * * *
“Hell of a fucking story. God, she scared the shit out of me with that scream,” Graeme said. “Another whisky before you go back to bed?”
“Yes,” Michael replied, eyes restless. Maybe it was their nakedness or maybe it was the same hate he felt burning through his own veins.
He’d been fully prepared to dislike Michael, both before and after he’d found out who he was. It certainly hadn’t helped the budding animosity when two FBI agents showed up at the scene, despite the all clear on the possible Enwright kidnapping. Then the state police sent a lieutenant instead of an investigative officer, and he’d had to listen to the three of them try to outmaneuver each other trying to get close to Michael. Bunch of ass lickers.
He’d left them to it and went to stand by the ambulance and Lizzie. Michael had joined him a few minutes later, after telling the other three he was putting his faith in the sheriff. As lead balloons go, that information hadn’t gone over well. All of that plus practically blackmailing him to bring him along hadn’t exactly boded well for friendship.
Michael casually turned toward the window, nursing his whisky, and staring out at the starlit night. “Want to tell me about her?” he asked.
With a sigh, Graeme moved to stand next to Michael. “Not much to tell,” he said, with a shrug. “We dated, I loved her, but it wasn’t enough. Barry was always begging her to go out with him. I encouraged her to try new things, hoping she would realize I needed to try other things as well. Shit.
“We were too fucking young to know what we wanted. Then Barry joined the Army and was going to Afghanistan. He begged her to marry him before he left. She did and worked hard at being a wife. I worked hard at being a cop. Eventually I left.
“Fuck!” He pounded his fist against the heavy glass of the patio door. “This is fucking my fault. I should never have pushed her into his arms.”
He turned to meet Michael’s steady gaze. “I can’t forgive myself for this.”
Michael raised a comforting hand to Graeme’s shoulder and gave a squeeze. “You were young, and you needed to find out who you really were. This isn’t your fault, Graeme. You’re not responsible for this, Barry is. You do realize we’re going to kill him?”
He studied Michael’s face. So calm, so self-assured. “Yes,” he agreed.
One word said it all. Years of training, of commitment to law and order, gone without regret. Together, they would hunt down and kill Barry Ashford.
He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself. His traitorous hand reached out to smooth Michael’s uninjured cheek. When Michael didn’t pull away, Graeme lowered his head and brushed Michael’s lips in a quick kiss. The deal was sealed.
Chapter Three
Graeme arrived back at his cabin just as the delivery truck pulled down the dirt driveway. Michael was stripped to the waist while he helped two other men sort wires and stakes. The surveillance equipment. He caught Lizzie’s gaze and gave a nod before briefly consulting with Michael. It had been quiet except for the delivery.
He swung onto the porch, sat next to Lizzie, and took her hand. “They didn’t find any trace of Barry. I filed your statement along with my report. The FBI agents showed up again. They wanted to talk with Michael. I told them I would pass it along if I saw him.”
Lizzie smiled. “If you see him,” she said dryly.
“Well, I could be wrong, but maybe one of those strapping lads down there can get a message to him.”
“Why is he helping me?” she asked.
“I think he must have an overwhelming sense of right and wrong, and I’m not sure he trusts us lawmen to get it right. It’s probably why he started his company.”
“You know, I thought he was your lover last night.”
Graeme went very still.
Lizzie continued, “It must have been the drugs, because I do realize you didn’t know who he was at the rest stop. Still, I suppose other things have fallen into place for me this morning.”
“What do you mean?”
She squeezed his hand tightly. “You’re gay. I don’t know why I never figured it out before. Not that you’re obvious. Not that there’s anything wrong with—”
He started to laugh as Lizzie blushed furiously.
“Stop laughing at me,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’m just embarrassed because all this time I thought you just didn’t love me.”
“Silly, little bit, don’t you know I’ve always loved you?”
“Not like I loved you, not like I wanted you. I would have married you in a minute, Graeme Kennedy. Instead, you found me someone else, someone you thought would love me better than you could. I didn’t understand that at all, you know,” she said on a sigh.
“We should have had this talk a long time ago, sweetheart. I’ve loved you since the day I first laid eyes on you, but I was confused. Are you sure you’re okay to talk about this now? Because if you’re ready to talk, I’m going to ask Michael to join us. Some of the history might spill over into what’s happening now.”