I'm Watching You (17 page)

Still, she'd never been happier to see anyone.
"Thanks."

Zack shot her a glance, swiftly assessing her. "Are you sure
you're all right?" His voice sounded brittle.

"I'm good."

Warwick moved beside her. "Your neck looks bruised."

The guy almost sounded concerned. "Like I said, I'm
fine."

Zack studied her for another beat and then turned his attention back to
Saunders. He informed him he was under arrest for assault.

Saunders's wrists strained against the restraints. "The
bitch deserved it. She butted into my life."

Zack jerked on the cuffs. "Shut up."

Within seconds two blue-and-white patrol cars, lights flashing, pulled into
the parking lot. The uniforms took custody of Saunders and put him in the back
of one of the squad cars.

The reality of how close she'd come to a bad beating or worse sank
in.

Zack rested his hands on his hips and stared at her. He kept his voice
low but she heard the tension. "What happened?"

"The guy's name is Saunders. His wife was taken to Mercy
Hospital yesterday. She had injuries consistent with a beating, so the doctor
on call asked me to visit with her."

"That's the appointment at the hospital you had."

"Yes. I spoke to Gail, this guy's wife, and gave her my
business card, but I didn't think she cared about what I was
saying." She nodded to the car where Burt sat in the backseat. He was
glaring at her. "Ole Burt said she moved out last night. He found my card
and figured I knew where to find her. And for the record, I don't know
where she is." She frowned. "She could have called me. But if she
had, she couldn't have gotten me at Sanctuary or on my cell, which is in
my purse in my office."

Zack tightened his jaw. "I'll get your purse back
today."

"Thanks." Lindsay watched with satisfaction as Saunders
struggled against his cuffs in the squad car's backseat. "Gail
might not have been willing to file assault charges against him, but I have no
problem with it."

Zack moved away and spoke to Warwick. After several minutes of
discussion, Warwick got in the front seat of the patrol car holding Saunders,
and the car drove off.

The shrill of an ambulance siren had her cringing. The flash of red
lights got closer and the ambulance turned into the parking lot. "Please
tell me that ambulance isn't for me."

"It sure is," Zack said.

She dragged a shaky hand through her hair. "I'm fine."

He towered over her.
"Easier to get an ambulance
here than you to the hospital."

His proximity made her uneasy. She'd always had trouble thinking
when he was close. "I'll go see my family doctor."

Even, white teeth flashed. "Time has not made you a better
liar."

She tried to sound offended. "What's that supposed to
mean?"

"I know you. You're not going to see a doctor. You'll
retreat back to your office, maybe eat a pack of Nabs, and drown yourself in
work."

Uncomfortable, she shifted. He'd hit the nail on the head. Still,
pride had her denying it. "You're wrong."

The paramedics got out and shook hands with Zack. "Bill, good to
see you."

Bill was medium height, muscular, with ink black hair and a Cary Grant
cleft in his chin.
"You too, Zack.
So
what's going on?"

Zack took Lindsay by the arm. His touch was gentle but unbreakable as he
pulled her toward Bill. "Have a look at her. I just pulled a creep off
her. He was trying to strangle her."

Strangle.
It sounded more frightening when Zack recapped
the incident. Adrenaline fading, she felt her knees weaken.

Bill lifted his sunglasses. His green eyes were sharp as he leaned
forward to look at Lindsay's neck. "Some red marks that will likely
lead to bruises. Come over to the back of the truck and sit down, so I can have
a closer look."

Lindsay didn't argue. Saunders could have done real damage and
she'd be a fool at this point to pass up a quick once-over from the
paramedic.

Zack walked with her to the ambulance.

Bill opened the back of the truck and his partner climbed inside and
removed a tackle box filled with medical supplies. With Zack behind her
watching, Lindsay climbed inside and sat on the cot.

After donning rubber gloves, Bill turned her head from side to side
studying her battered skin. "You've got some scratches and
you'll have a couple of fingerprint-size bruises in a few days. Can you
swallow?"

Lindsay nodded. "Yes. My throat is fine."

Bill pulled an alcohol swab packet from the tackle box and tore it open.
"This might sting but I want to get those scratches cleaned."

She winced when the alcohol made contact with her raw skin.

"He
grab
you anywhere else?" Bill
asked.

"No. Just the throat," Lindsay said.

"Who did this to you?" Bill asked.

"Some guy who took exception to the fact that I encouraged his
battered wife to leave him."

Bill's lips flattened into a grim line. "I thought I
recognized you. I've seen you over at Mercy Hospital in the emergency
room. It was a couple of months ago. You showed up to talk to a woman who had
been beaten."

"Good memory." Lindsay held out her hand. "Lindsay
O'Neil."

Bill took her hand and grinned. The smile was warm, genuine, and she
found her foul mood lifting. "Bill Kline." He wiped her neck a
second time, his hand lingering close. "I work out of the station house
down the road."

The guy was flirting with her. And she felt flattered.

Zack pulled off his sunglasses. Dark eyes flashed annoyance. "Does
she need to see a doctor?"

Bill's gaze skipped between Lindsay and Zack. Realization that
Zack wanted Lindsay to himself had Bill easing back a fraction from her.
"A throat X-ray wouldn't hurt."

"No," Lindsay said. "I'm fine."

Bill took a last look at her neck. "If you have any trouble
swallowing, get to a doctor immediately. Otherwise, aspirin and rest are the
best medicine."

"Thanks," Lindsay said.

Zack nodded. "I'll keep an eye on her."

She scooted off the cot and hopped down onto the asphalt. "Thanks,
fellows, I'm fine." As the paramedics packed up, she painfully
started walking the quarter-mile toward the fast-food joint. She needed to sit
down before her knees gave way.

Zack followed Lindsay as she made her way across the parking lot. She
needed a cold soda and a couple of aspirin.

"I don't need a babysitter," Lindsay said.

Zack wasn't put off. He fell into step beside her.
"When's the last time you ate?"

She faced him. "I was on my way to lunch when
what's-his-name decided to turn my neck into hamburger."

Zack glanced down the road. "The closest place is a burger
shop."

"Walkers can't be choosers."

"You need a real meal--the kind with plates, a table with a
cloth, and napkins."

"I don't have time or a car for that kind of stuff."

"You can spare an hour. I'll drive."

He was right. She was hungry, shaken, and needed to collect her
thoughts.
"Fine."

Zack guided her to his car, opened the door,
then
closed it after she got in. He slid behind the wheel, put the car into gear,
and pulled onto Woodman Road.

In the confined space, Lindsay was aware of his hands on the wheel, the
width of his shoulders, the way he clenched and unclenched his jaw as he drove.
Suddenly, she wasn't so sure this was a good idea.

"So where are we headed?" she said.

"
An Italian place close
by."

She tried to relax back into the seat. She needed to loosen the reins
for a little while but feared if she did the energy would completely drain from
her body.

Zack soon pulled into the parking lot of a small eatery, put the car in
park, and turned off the engine. She had climbed out and was halfway around the
car before she really looked at the restaurant.
Zola's
.
The restaurant owned by his parents.
"Aw crap, Zack. Not here. It's your parents'
restaurant."

He had the nerve to look shocked.
"Why not?
It's the best food in town."

She shot him a frustrated look. "Zack, I'm not exactly on
your parents' favorite person list. I haven't seen them in a
year."

That seemed to surprise him. "They've nothing against
you."

She blew out a breath. "Please, Zack."

He stood so close to her she could see he wore the shirt she'd
given him. "They like you, Lindsay. It will be fine. Besides,
they're not even here today. Mom's got Dad helping her with Eleanor's
birthday party. It's Saturday."

His explanation didn't dispel her unease. "Eleanor must be
excited."

"Mom's turning the party into a big thing. Dad is going
along without a fight, which tells me he's having fun. They've
invited half of Richmond."

Lindsay's heart clenched. When she'd eloped with Zack the
Kier family had welcomed her with open arms. She'd fallen for the entire
clan as hard as she'd fallen for Zack. And when she'd kicked him
out, she'd desperately wanted to explain to his parents why. But
they'd never called her and she hadn't felt right about calling
them. As fast as she'd made a family, she'd lost one.

Lindsay managed a smile. "I'm glad for them. Don't
they have an anniversary coming up soon?"

"Next month. Thirty-five years."

"Wow."

Zack stared at her as if trying to read her mind and then, placing his
hand in the small of her back, guided her into the restaurant. Immediately they
were hit with a blast of cold air. The interior was dark and it took a moment
for their eyes to adjust. The place was deserted.

"Where is everyone?" she said.

"We don't open until four on Tuesdays."

"If they aren't open, why are we here? I don't want to
put anyone out."

"You're not. And they've always got pots on the stove
simmering for dinner. I know we can scrounge a decent meal."

The familiar smells of marinara and freshly baked bread swirled around
her, and for a moment she was transported back to those few months when
everything had been good between them. "The place is just as I remembered
it."

"Mom wants to redecorate--she's even called in a few
contractors for bids. But Dad refuses. He says people like tradition, places
that don't change."

Her gaze skimmed the small square tables covered with crisp white
linens. Even the napkins were cloth, pressed neatly into rectangles. On each
table was a small hurricane lamp with an unlit candle.

Oddly, the restaurant had always made her feel at home. "Your dad
is right. I always liked the place just like it is."

"Don't let Mom hear you say that."

Audrey Kier was a force to be reckoned with. A former stage actress, she
had a flare for drama, which was accentuated by her short silver hair and
still-trim body. She was outspoken, generous, and fiercely loyal to her family.
Cross one of hers and you crossed her.

Lindsay's unease returned. "Maybe this isn't such a
good idea."

Zack grabbed his sunglasses and tucked them in his breast pocket.
"You're not afraid are you?"

Challenge punctuated each word. "No."

He smiled. "Then stay and have lunch."

He was daring her.
"Fine."

Zack's brother, Malcolm, pushed through the kitchen door. Dressed
in black, Malcolm possessed the same gray eyes as his brother, but his build
was more muscular. Zack was the runner; Malcolm, the bodybuilder.

Malcolm frowned, clearly not happy to see Lindsay.
"Zack.
Lindsay. What's up?"

Zack grinned.
"Looking for some lunch."

Malcolm glared at Zack as if to say:
We'll talk
later
. "There are a few things brewing on the stove."

If Zack noticed his brother's dissatisfaction, he ignored it.
"Great. We'll have two plates of whatever you've got. What
are you doing here today?"

"Mom's got Dad wrapped around the axle about the party. I
had a few days off so I offered to fill in today."

Zack grinned. "You swore after high school you'd never work
in the restaurant again."

Malcolm shrugged.
"Never say never, right?
Go ahead and pick a table and I'll send Eleanor out with bread. Pasta and
marinara sound good?"

Zack looked at Lindsay, his eyebrow lifted. "Work for you?"

Malcolm could have offered rusty nails on a plate and she'd not
have argued. She smiled. "Sure."