Hidden Away (8 page)

They walked in silence and he didn’t attempt to break it. He wanted to come off as concerned but not intrusive. Gaining her trust was going to be more difficult than he’d thought, and he had to tread lightly or risk scaring her away.

When they reached her cottage, she took a step toward her porch but then stopped and turned around to face him. He sensed that it took a lot of courage to stand there in front of him. She looked as though she wanted nothing more than to run for her cottage and bar the door. But she stood there, bottom lip pinched between her teeth and she leveled her gaze directly at him, her light green eyes catching the light and warming.

“Thank you again,” she said in a low voice. “I know you think I’m nuts, but thank you for everything you did and for walking me home. And ... for not forcing the issue back there.”

He offered a casual smile and shrugged as if it didn’t matter to him one iota what she decided. “You’re welcome. Glad I was in the right place at the right time.”

Not wanting her to feel awkward, he broke away first and headed toward his own cottage. Right place right time. He nearly snorted at how easily that fabrication had fallen off his lips. He’d tagged her as soon as she left her cottage. It had only taken him twenty minutes to return to his place, change and head into town after her.

He let himself into the house and went immediately for the sat phone. He called Resnick first and relayed the events along with the name of the constable and Sarah’s attacker. In half an hour, Resnick would know his dick size and the last time he took a shit. If there was anything Garrett needed to do, Resnick would tag him later.

His next call was to Sam, and he waited impatiently for his brother to answer.

“How goes the babysitting?” Sam asked.

“Just a hello works,” Garrett said sourly.

“But not nearly as fun. What’s up? Everything okay in paradise?”

Garrett rummaged in the fridge with one hand and pulled out a beer before diving back in for sandwich fixings. “It’s not bad. Got some fishing in. Been working out, doing some swimming. Not a bad vacation.”

Sam muttered something indecipherable, and Garrett grinned, knowing it would irritate Sam that Garrett was on a tropical island while Sam was stuck home on pins and needles waiting for his daughter to be born.

“Hey, is Van back from his gig?”

“Yeah, this morning,” Sam replied. “He’s sleeping.”

“Get him up. I need him to do something for me.”

“Can’t it wait? He’s on day four of no rest.”

“No, it can’t wait,” Garrett said impatiently. “I wouldn’t have called if it could wait.”

“Impatient bastard,” Sam grumbled. “If you get me into trouble with my wife for this, I’ll kick your ass. She’s ruthless right now.”

Garrett chuckled. “Still hasn’t dropped the kid, huh.”

“Hell, no. If she doesn’t pop soon, I’m seriously contemplating moving out.”

Garrett rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why you say that shit. You’re full of crap and we both know it.”

“Hang on, I’ll wake Van up.”

Garrett heard muffled voices and one distinct groan. He grinned. Donovan did love his sleep and he wouldn’t appreciate being pulled out of bed. But Garrett didn’t want to wait another twenty-four hours to find out what his brother needed while Donovan caught up on his beauty rest.

“What the fuck do you want?” Donovan’s bleary voice bled over the line.

“Hello to you too. I need you to run something for me.”

“This couldn’t wait a few goddamn hours?”

Garrett’s eyebrows went up. Cranky son of a bitch. He really must have missed some serious sleep to be this grouchy.

“No, it can’t wait.”

“Well hell,” Donovan muttered. “Give me a sec to get to Hoss.”

Garrett waited patiently, drumming his fingers on the counter by the can of beer. Deciding to utilize the time wisely, he propped the phone between his shoulder and ear and set about fixing a couple of sandwiches to go with the beer.

A few minutes later, Donovan’s irritable grunt sounded. “What the hell is so important that you couldn’t wait for me to catch a few hours’ sleep?”

“I need you to dig up some info on Sarah Daniels.”

“What? I already gave you her file. I can’t believe this.”

Garrett stuffed a bite of the sandwich into his mouth and then mumbled around it. “No, no, I need you to dig deeper. I think I’m missing something here. I want you to check on any police reports that might have her name in it. Hospital records. Anything that suggests she was a victim.”

There was a long pause. “Victim of what, Garrett?”

“That’s what I need you to find out. That file Resnick gave us just gave info on her as it related to Lattimer and the guy he supposedly killed. I need to know more about Sarah herself and what makes her tick. She’s skittish as hell, and she was attacked today.”

“What the hell?” Donovan cut in. “Is everything okay there? Do you need us?”

Garrett chugged down a swallow of beer. “Nothing I can’t handle. Some asshole tried to nab her bag. But she fell apart. I mean, not that it wouldn’t be normal for her to be scared to death, but it was eerie. And then we get to the constable’s office and suddenly she changes her mind, says she doesn’t want to press charges and walks out. Part of it is I think she realized at the last minute that she would draw unwanted attention to herself, but I also think something else is going on here and I want to know what. I’m going to need all the ammo I can get, because she’s going to be a hard nut to crack.”

“Okay, I’ll see what I can dig up. You want me to call you when I’m done or you want to call me back later?”

“I’ll call you in an hour or so,” Garrett replied.

Donovan snorted. “That confident I can find what you want by then?”

“You’re the geek.”

“That’s Mr. Geek to you, and you can kiss my ass.”

Garrett made a smooching noise through the phone and then hung up. He finished the half-eaten sandwich and chugged the last of his beer before ambling over to his window to peer down the beach at Sarah’s cottage.

He frowned and leaned closer when he saw her sitting on her steps, head down. She looked utterly defeated, her shoulders slumped, the ends of her hair lifting and blowing this way and that in the steady ocean breeze. Had she ever gone into her cottage?

He wasn’t sure what bothered him about her. It could be she was sitting out, enjoying the day, but after what had happened earlier, he couldn’t quite believe that. He’d expected he wouldn’t see her again for a while and that she’d hole up in her cottage.

She moved but it was only to bury her face in her hands and then her fingers slid over her forehead and into her hair. Hell. She was crying.

His stomach tightened and he turned away, unsettled by her obvious distress. This was a prime opportunity to go over and be sensitive or whatever it was women liked for men to be. But he’d rather go another round with the shithead Didier than face a woman’s tears.

He sighed and blew out his breath. He was going to have to go over there. If she did hole up, he probably wouldn’t see her for days. And he couldn’t very keep an eye on her if she wasn’t in sight.

Vacation or not, he’d prefer to be knee-deep in a jungle viewing the world through his scope. At least he knew what the hell to do in those kinds of situations. Shoot first, no questions later. That was easy. Figuring out how to gain the trust of a woman scared shitless? Yeah, he was fucked.

Chocolate. Weren’t women supposed to be rabid predators of chocolate? He’d waved a chocolate bar in front of Sophie’s nose more than once and been forgiven for all manner of transgressions.

He went into the bedroom and dug into his pack. There were plenty of protein bars but he always had a stash of the good stuff. Chocolate caramel bar. No, he wouldn’t sacrifice that for the cause. He opted for the plain milk chocolate and tossed the pack back onto his bed.

Feeling like a genius, he headed out to the beach and glanced in Sarah’s direction again. She hadn’t moved so he set off at a brisk pace. He wanted to get as close as he could with his chocolate before she bolted inside.

He was just a few yards away when she looked up and saw him. She reached for the bag at her feet and wrapped her hands around the strap like she thought he was going to make a grab for it.

He was wrong. She hadn’t been crying. She was, however, upset. Her face was raw and her eyes glittered with ... grief? Slowly she released her grip on her bag. She rubbed her face and hastily shoved her hair back, then put her hands down on the steps like she was bracing herself for attack. Hell, he couldn’t blame her after the morning she’d had.

“Hey,” he said casually. “I saw you were still out. I brought you a present. My sisters-in-law inform me that a woman can refuse no man bearing chocolate.”

Her brow wrinkled in confusion as he held out the chocolate bar. She glanced up at him then back at the candy, clearly baffled. Then her face crumbled and she dropped her head again.

“I can’t go in,” she said in a low voice.

Taking the chance that she wouldn’t kill herself backing away from him, he eased onto the step beside her. “Your cottage?”

She nodded, her hair falling forward again to partially obscure her face. His fingers were up to brush it away before he got ahold of himself. He dropped his hand back to his lap and stared over the water.

Casually he extended the candy bar sideways so it crossed her vision. After a hesitation, she took it and held it, her finger stroking over the aluminum wrapping. He felt like a man trying to tame a wild animal with a food offering.

“Yeah, my cottage,” she finally said. “Oh God, I feel so stupid. I stood there in front of the door and couldn’t go in.”

“Why?”

Her head dipped lower, and she gripped the candy bar with enough force that coupled with the hot sun, she was going to have a handful of chocolate syrup.

“Fear,” she said in an aching voice. “God, I hate it. I feel so ... powerless.” She turned her head, her eyes blazing as she sought his gaze. “Do you have any idea what that feels like?” Then she gave a derisive laugh and looked away again. “Probably not. You don’t look like you’ve ever been scared of anything.”

“Crying women scare me,” he admitted.

She laughed. “Lucky for you I used up all my tears months ago.”

“Plenty of things scare me. Pregnant women scare me.”

She turned to face him again, her lips twitching. Some of the wildness had faced from her eyes. “I’m getting the impression that women, in any form, scare you.”

He shrugged. “They’re the more violent species. And unpredictable. I’d rather take on a wild boar. You can’t shoot women.”

This time her laugh came from deep within. It was full and throaty and so fucking beautiful that he simply stared at her, gutshot over his reaction.

“Okay, be serious. Aren’t you ever afraid of anything?”

“Plenty of times,” he said softly.

“Even when what you’re afraid of defies all logic?”

“Especially then. It’s been my experience that fear doesn’t have a set of parameters. We can’t turn it off just by realizing we shouldn’t be afraid.”

She nodded, a rueful twist to her lips.

“Tell you what. Why don’t you let me go into your cottage first. I’ll check it out. You stay on the porch. I’ll kick the shit out of any bogeymen and then you can come in.”

Her head swung up again and the relief in her eyes staggered him. Shit, she’d really been scared. Her fingers were curled into tight fists in her lap, so tight that her knuckles were white. He took in the dampness on her forehead and at her hairline. No, not just scared. Terrified.

Unable to resist, he reached with a tentative hand to touch her shoulder. Though she didn’t outright flinch away as she had before, she tensed and trembled underneath his fingers. Not wanting to cause her more stress, he pulled quickly away. He rose and then reached a hand down to help her up. He stood there, waiting for her to accept the gesture, allowing her to touch him on her own terms.

Finally she reached up and slid her damp palm over his. She wrapped her other hand in the strap of her bag and hauled it to her shoulder. He curled his fingers around hers and pulled as she got up from the steps.

“You don’t mind?” she asked nervously.

He smiled. “Not at all.”

Her shoulders lifted and then sagged as she breathed out. “Thank you. I know this is stupid. Irrational even. I—”

“Shhh,” he said, cutting her off in mid babble. “It’s not stupid and it’s not irrational. You had a hell of a scare earlier. Now, wait here while I go in.”

He started for the door when suddenly she bounded up the step after him.

“I forgot to tell you about the cat,” she rushed out. “Don’t let her out, I mean watch out for her. Her name is Patches.” She broke off then took a step back and sighed. “I’m babbling again.”

He smiled to reassure her. “I’ll look out for Patches and make sure the bogeyman didn’t get her either.”

“Oh, the key. You’ll need the key.” She hastily dug into her bag, her face drawn into a frustrated frown. Finally she pulled out a key ring that sported three keys and thrust it in his direction. “You’ll need them all. I mean, there are two dead bolts and the regular lock.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything as he turned to the door. She was careful. He’d give her that.

After a few moments of figuring out which key went where, he pushed open the door and stepped inside. Patches meowed from her position on the couch and then laid her ears flat when she figured out Garrett was a stranger.

Garrett glanced around, noting the bareness of the room. It wasn’t much more updated than his own, though he did note she’d gotten the better draw. And she had a TV. Silence blanketed the house. Only the sounds of his footsteps echoed as he made his way down the hallway to the bedroom. He peeked in the bathroom, surprised that it wasn’t littered with girly paraphernalia. Then he entered the bedroom, taking note of the pristinely made bed and the fact that wasn’t so much as a shoe on the floor.