FOR THE CHILDREN Page 13
Both girls responded eagerly, but Abby just looked at him. As they drove down the driveway, she said in a low voice, "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine." His voice was short and he knew it, but he didn't turn to look at her.
"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, after all."
The worry in her voice was for him. The knowledge made his answer more curt than she deserved. "We have no choice. I have to see Devlin. And do you want to tell the girls we've changed our minds?"
He could almost feel the heat from her flush in the close confines of the truck. After what seemed like a long time, she said, "I just don't want you to be hurt." Her voice was so low he could barely hear her. He wondered if he was meant to.
Neither of them spoke as they drove down the long, rutted road back to the McAllister ranch. As they passed the house, Shea waved at them from a corral. She was on a horse, and there were several barrels set up in the corral.
"What's she doing, Damien?" Casey asked.
"Shea's a barrel racer," Damien said. "It looks like she's practicing."
"What's a barrel racer?"
Grateful for the distraction, Damien described what a barrel racer did as they approached the town of Cameron. But as they got closer, his voice began to falter and his heart began to pound. He didn't want to be here, didn't want to bring Abby anywhere near this town. But he had no choice. He'd picked Cameron and now he had to deal with the consequences.
He stared straight ahead as he drove down Main Street
. Every building they passed evoked another painful memory. Finally he managed to say, "We're meeting Devlin at the diner, Heaven on Seventh." He didn't look at Abby. "We'll have dinner there."
"Won't the people in Cameron wonder why there are strangers in town?"
His hands tightened on the steering wheel, then he deliberately relaxed them. "I'm not a stranger here. I used to live in Cameron."
* * *
Chapter 9
«^»
Abby stared at Damien, shocked by his words. "What do you mean, you used to live here?"
"I have a home here. A second home. That's how I know Devlin and Shea." His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. "And a lot of other people in town."
He swung the Bronco into a parking space and climbed out before she could ask another question. As she unbuckled the twins from their car seats, she glanced over at Damien. His face was hard, his expression grim. He looked like he was surveying the street to make sure there was no danger.
But Abby knew better. She saw the pain beneath the surface, pain he tried hard to hide. When Damien looked over at her once and his gaze brushed the twins, she saw the agony in his eyes.
"Let's go inside," he said gruffly as soon as Maggie and Casey were standing on the sidewalk.
The restaurant was half-filled with people, and Abby felt Damien relax as he gazed around. At first she thought it was because he didn't see a threat, but she quickly realized it was because he didn't see anyone he knew.
Then the door opened behind him. Three people walked in, and she felt him tense again.
"Good to see you, Kane." A tall man with golden brown hair stepped over to shake his hand. From the star pinned on his khaki shirt, Abby assumed he was the sheriff.
"You, too, Dev." Damien turned to her. "This is Devlin McAllister, the sheriff here in Cameron. Dev, this is Abby Markham."
She shook the other man's hands, noticing the careful scrutiny in his gray eyes. "Thank you for everything you've done for us, Sheriff." She didn't want to say anything about staying in his cabin. She had no idea who might be in the restaurant.
She watched his eyes warm, as If he understood what she was doing. "I'm glad we could help."
The sheriff turned to the two people who'd walked in with him. "You call me if anything else happens, Becca."
"I'll do that, Devlin." The blond woman began to turn to the child at her side. She froze as she spotted Damien. "Damien?" she whispered. "Is that really you?"
Abby thought Damien's face couldn't get any harder, but at the woman's words he froze. Finally he reached out and shook her hand. "It's good to see you, Becca."
"You remember my daughter, Cassie," she said, motioning to the child.
Damien reached out to shake the child's hand. "Good to see you again, Cassie. I'd like you to meet Maggie and Casey and their aunt Abby."
Damien moved closer to Abby, as If to shield her and the twins.
"Go ahead and sit down, Damien," the sheriff said. "Tell Mandy I want that table in the corner."
As Mandy led them to the large round table that sat isolated in the corner, Abby saw Devlin leaning over Becca and Cassie, saying something in a low voice. After a few minutes he joined them at the table.
"Becca and Cassie won't say a word about you being here in town," he said as he sat down. "Becca's having some problems of her own, and she knows how to keep her mouth shut."
He scooted his chair closer to the table. "Now what's going on?"
As Damien told Devlin what had happened since they'd arrived at the cabin, Abby looked around the restaurant. Fresh flowers and plants covered the walls and the tables, and the ceiling was painted to look like the sky on a sunny day. Even the twins stared at the decorations.
"I like this place, Aunt Abby," said Maggie.
"Are we going to eat here?" asked Casey.
Before Abby could answer, Devlin interrupted her. "Can you describe the man you saw walking near the cabin today?" he asked.
As she did, she watched his mouth tighten. "That doesn't sound like anyone from our ranch or the ranches that adjoin our land. It could be a hiker who wandered over from the federal land on the other side of the mountain, though."
He hesitated for a few moments, then said to Damien, "Do you remember Sy Ames?"
"Yeah, I remember him."
"Would you recognize him again if you saw him?"
"I think so."
"He might be around. When you told me about the campfire smoke and the hiker, I thought it might be him. Someone's been harassing Becca. Sy's disappeared from town, but he's one of the suspects. He could easily have gone up into the hills to hide."
Damien leaned back against the chair. "I'd like to think it was him, but I can't afford to take that chance."
"I agree. I'll keep an eye on any strangers that come to town. I'll run any Nevada license plates that come through, too. And if you think they've found you, move to town. My deputies and I can't do much for you up at that cabin. It'd take too long to get there in an emergency."
Abby watched Damien's face tighten. "I'll think about it."
"You do that." The sheriff slapped the table, then stood up. "Enjoy your dinner. Janie is as good as she ever was."
"Who's Janie?" Abby asked as the sheriff walked away.
"She's the woman who owns the diner." For the first time since they'd arrived in town, Damien smiled. "Once you taste her food, you'll know what Devlin meant."
A short while later, as they ate their dinner, Abby noticed that a few people stared at them with open curiosity and a few more watched Damien with sympathy. Everyone looked surprised to see the twins. But no one approached. Devlin had said something to the waitress as he left, and now she wondered if he'd told her to make sure they were left alone.
As soon as they'd finished the last bite of food on their plates, Damien stood up. "Ready to go?"
He hustled them out of the restaurant and back into the Bronco, then drove the few blocks back to Main Street
and the movie theater. "I want to make sure the truck is close by," he said, his words clipped.
They took seats near the back of the theater, and as the lights dimmed she leaned over. "Are you sure this is going to be all right?"
He took her hand. "I'm fine, Abby. But thank you for asking."
Even over the sound of the movie she heard his voice soften. Twining her fingers with his, she said, "I could see how hard this was for you. I wish I could make it easier."
They sat silently during the movie, their palms pressed together. Abby glanced over at the girls occasionally, but all her attention was focused on the man at her side. He wasn't paying attention to the action on the screen. Instead, his eyes traveled patiently over the crowd in the theater, time after time, looking for something out of the ordinary.
She ached for him. He tried so hard to hide his pain, but she saw it, raw and throbbing, every time she looked at him. The girls were entranced by the movie, but she couldn't wait to leave. Every moment spent in this town was clearly painful for Damien. By the time the movie credits rolled onto the screen, all she wanted was to run out of the building.
"Aunt Abby?" Casey pulled on her hand. "I have to go to the bathroom."
"I'll walk you there," Damien said in a low voice.
The rest rooms were at one end of the building, and Damien watched Abby and the girls walk through the door. Then he positioned himself outside the door to wait for them. When they emerged, he stepped next to them.
"Ready to go?" he asked.
She nodded and started for the door. She had only taken a few steps when she stopped abruptly and grabbed Damien. Her face was white as paper.
"What's wrong?" Instinctively he stepped in front of Abby and the twins, shielding them.
"He's here," she whispered.
"Who?" Damien scanned the crowd as his hand hovered over the gun in his shoulder holster.
"The man who was hiking past the cabin this afternoon. He's standing over by the door, watching everyone who leaves."
Damien saw the man, leaning against the door like he was waiting for someone. But his eyes watched the crowd carefully, lighting on each person who walked past him.
"Let's go," he said, turning to shepherd them back into the auditorium.
"We need to leave," Abby said urgently. "Why are we going back in here?"
He didn't answer until they were hidden from the view of the man by the door. "We're going to go out one of the fire exits. I doubt he would try anything here in a crowded theater, but I don't want to take the chance. With any luck we'll get back to the truck before he realizes we've given him the slip."
Abby nodded, taking the girls' hands. When they reached the fire exits at the front of the building, he watched her take a deep breath and glance over her shoulder. Then she pulled the twins closer, pushed the door open and was relieved when no alarm went off. In a moment they were standing in the alley behind the theater.
"Once we get back in front, we'll blend in with the crowds. We'll just get in the truck and drive away."
Abby nodded once, jerkily, and led the twins toward the street-light at the end of the ally. Damien let his hand linger on the gun in his shoulder holster, but they got back to the Bronco without seeing the man again. In moments they were speeding out of the town of Cameron, the girls already asleep in the backseat.
Damien pulled out his cellular phone and called Devlin, but he had little hope of the sheriff catching the man. When he snapped it shut, the silence hung heavy with tension in the truck. "I don't see anyone following us," Abby finally said in a low voice.
"They don't have to. They know where to find us," he answered, looking in his rearview mirror again. The night sky behind them was utterly black. The red taillights of the truck were the only illumination on the bumpy, twisting road. His hands tightened on the steering wheel. It would be a perfect place for an ambush.
He strained his eyes looking ahead of the truck. Even with the high beams on, the only thing visible was the narrow ribbon of rutted road. Going into Cameron had been a stupid idea, he told himself grimly. They would have been far better off staying at the cabin, where at least he knew the territory.
But the cabin had its own set of dangers, and the knowledge gnawed at him as he drove through the night. They were driving in this pitch blackness, a target for anyone lurking on the road, because he had been afraid he wouldn't be able to control himself if he was alone with Abby. The knowledge made him both angry and scared, and once again he cursed the fate that had given him this case.
"Is there someone out there?" Abby's voice sounded disembodied in the darkness, floating on the air and trembling between them. He jerked his attention away from his own problems and glanced over at her.
She stared out the window at the inky blackness, her hand wrapped tight around the door handle. Even without touching her, he knew she was wound as tightly as a spring.
"I don't know." At least he could give her honesty. "I doubt it. Anyone else trying to take this road would have had to go past Shea and the rest of the people at the Red Rock Ranch. Shea would have heard something, and she would have called me. She has my cell-phone number."
"Would they try something now?" she whispered. "While we're in the truck? Would they try to stop us, to hurt Maggie and Casey somehow?"
"I don't know, Abby." He gripped the steering wheel more tightly. "Anything's possible, but I think they would wait until they thought we were off guard. Whoever was watching us tonight must know by now that we saw him. They know we'll be prepared for something."
"Are we prepared?" she asked, finally turning to look at him. "I am, Abby." He heard the hardness in his voice and made no effort to disguise it.
"I trust you, you know." Abby's low voice surrounded him, its soft threads wrapping around his heart and pulling tight. "I really do."
"You sound surprised." It was the only answer he could think of that might make her draw away from him.
"I am," she answered, turning and looking at him again. The warmth he heard in her voice had him curling his hands around the steering wheel. "I never thought I would trust anyone else with the girls' safety."
"You're right not to trust anyone. You shouldn't even trust me," he said, ignoring the fact that he'd been trying to convince her to trust him since the moment they met. "I'm the one who took the three of you into Cameron and exposed you to more danger than if we'd stayed home at the cabin."
There was silence in the truck for a long time. Finally Abby said softly, "Do you always beat yourself up like this over things you can't predict or control?"
"I take responsibility for my actions." His voice was stark and full of pain, and far too revealing. He wished he could snatch the words back, but they hung in the air between them, vibrating so loudly they echoed in his head.
Soft fingers brushed his skin and made his muscles jump' and he looked down to see that Abby had laid her hand on his arm. "Everything that goes wrong isn't your fault, you know. Sometimes things just happen and we can't do anything about it."
Her hand burned into him, making him ache with wanting her. He'd never wanted a woman so much, not even his wife. And what scared him, he realized, was that he wanted to give her more than he'd ever given anyone. The words threatened to come tumbling out of his mouth, the ugly story about his wife and son. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to make her understand what he had done, to know that he could never be absolved of blame for the deaths of the two people that should have mattered most to him.
And maybe he just wanted her to absolve him, he told himself coldly. Because Abby would. She'd tell him it wasn't his fault, that he couldn't have predicted what had happened. Her soft voice would weave its magic around him until he'd believe her. And he could never allow that to happen.
"I refuse to indulge myself with that cop-out," he said, swerving the Bronco to park it beside the cabin. "It would become too easy to shrug everything off that way. Pretty soon I would convince myself that I wasn't responsible for anything, and someone would end up dead." He stopped the truck and turned off the engine. As he turned to her in the darkness, he could hear crickets chirping outside. "Do you want it to be you or one of the twins?"
"Of course not," she said impatiently. "And I know you too well to think that would ever happen. But I suspect you're carrying
around a load of guilt that's eating you up inside."
He could only stare at her, horrified that she'd been able to see past his carefully constructed barriers and even more horrified that he was relieved. As she stared back at him, something changed in her face. The impatience vanished, replaced by a tenderness that made him yearn to reach out for her. He wanted her tenderness and her caring, needed it like a flower needs rain and sun. Tenderness had been missing in his life for far too long. Crushing his keys into his hand, feeling them cut into his palm, he allowed himself to look at her for a moment before he abruptly wrenched open the door.
"Stay in here for a moment while I check things out," he muttered.
Striding to the front door, he paused to check on his indicators. His mouth tightened. Someone had been here tonight, had tried to get into the cabin. He looked back at the truck, seeing only the pale oval of Abby's face in the darkness. The girls were still sound asleep in the backseat, and for a moment all he wanted to do was get into the truck and start driving, away from the danger and the men who stalked them.
That wasn't his only job, he reminded himself grimly. Not only did he have to protect Maggie and Casey, bet he also had to find out who had killed Joey Stefanetto. And the men who stalked them had the answers.
Drawing his gun out of its holster, he unlocked the door then kicked it open. The house stood silent and dimly lit, only the lights on the porch and in the kitchen illuminating the rooms. Damien stood in the doorway for a moment, listening. There was no sound of feet shuffling, no muffled breathing to disturb the silence, no acrid smell of fear. The house was empty.
Just to be sure, he searched every room, looking in the closets and under the beds. When he was sure they were alone, he went to the truck and motioned Abby outside.
"What's wrong?" she asked, licking her lips.
"Someone was here tonight. They tried to get in. I don't think they succeeded, and there's no one in the house now. Let's get the girls inside."
Without a word Abby turned and unfastened the car seat nearest her and lifted a sleeping Casey into her arms. Damien watched until she was safely in the house, then turned to Maggie.