Navy SEAL Rescuer (5 page)

Catherine pissed him off, because she didn’t seem to understand
the kind of danger she was in.

Or didn’t want to understand.

Or, maybe just didn’t care.

He ran into the house, ignoring the officer’s command to wait.
He’d find Catherine and drag her outside if he had to.

Because, as irritated as he was, he couldn’t leave her
behind.

FIVE

C
atherine grabbed several bottles of
medicine from the top of the small fridge that stood in the corner of Eileen’s
room. Outside, men shouted, their muffled cries carrying through the poorly
insulated walls. Her pulse raced in response.

Were they dismantling the bomb?

What if they failed? Would the tree topple onto the house?
Would the house collapse with the force of the explosion?

Would she still be in it?

Stupid to come back for the medicine, but Eileen needed it, and
Catherine needed Eileen.

“One, two, three, four, five,” she counted, dropping the
bottles into the folded-up hem of her tank. A thousand dollars worth of pills,
but maybe not worth risking her life over. After all, if she was gone who would
take care of Eileen?

She ran into the dark hall, bounced off a broad firm chest.

Terror speared through her, and she screamed, throwing a punch
as medicine tumbled to the floor.

Someone snagged her wrist, held it tight when she tried to tug
away.

“I’m not in the mood for a broken nose, Cat.”

Darius.

Of course.

Running to the rescue again.

“Come on. We need to get out of here.”

“In a second.” She yanked away, stooping to pick up the
bottles.

“Cat! We don’t have time for this,” he said, but he grabbed the
last bottles and thrust it into her hands. “There. Now, let’s go.”

They were moving before she could think, running through the
hallway and into the kitchen, then out into chilly night air and across the
yard.

Moonlight splashed on dried-up grass that had been lush and
green four years ago. Catherine had labored over the yard as a teen, cleaning it
up, planting rose bushes, throwing down grass seed and watering it so that it
looked more like her friends’ yards and less like a dump.

She’d had so many dreams then, so many possibilities stretching
out before her. She didn’t know how it had all gone so wrong. How every
possibility had become the reality she was living. Dreams dead. Eileen
dying.

Catherine almost wished the bomb would explode and take out the
house and the yard and all the reminders of what used to be.

Good and bad and in between.

Of course, wiping the homestead off the face of the earth
couldn’t change the past or make it more palatable. Eventually she’d get the
fresh start she craved, but the price she would pay for it was one she couldn’t
stomach.

“Catherine! Thank goodness you’re okay! What were you thinking,
girl, going back in there like that?” Eileen shuffled forward as Catherine and
Darius reached the edge of the yard. Her knobby knees pale, her nightgown
hanging loose around her gaunt frame, she looked nothing like the strong feisty
woman who had raised Catherine.

“I wanted to get your medicine.” She held up the bottles, then
shoved them into her shorts pockets.

“Did prison scramble your brains? What if the bomb had exploded
and the house had come down? Do you think that medicine would matter?” Eileen
asked, grabbing her wrist with cold, hard fingers.

“The house didn’t explode, and if it does, I’ve saved us a
thousand dollars.”

“Do you think I care about that?”

“I
know
you don’t, but I do. Your
health is as important to me as mine is to you, and this medicine is a
necessity.” Catherine slid an arm around Eileen’s narrow waist, her heart
sinking as she felt knobby bones.

“We can buy more medicine. We can’t buy another you.”

“I know, but I’m fine, and that’s all that matters.”

“Just don’t do anything like that ever again, okay? My old
heart can’t take the stress,” Eileen joked, but Catherine worried that there
might be a measure of truth to the words.

How much would be too much for a woman with metastasized liver
cancer?

Catherine didn’t want to find out.

“How about we go sit in the Buick?” she suggested. “You can
rest while the bomb squad works.”

“It’s better if we all stay here, ma’am,” a female officer
said, sidling close, her face very familiar.

Had she interviewed Catherine after the Good Samaritan
murders?

Probably.

And she’d probably been as convinced as everyone else of
Catherine’s guilt.

“I wouldn’t go sit in the Buick while all this excitement is
going on, anyway. When a woman’s nearing the end of her life, she doesn’t want
to miss a moment of it.”

“Eileen—”

“Why don’t you have a seat over here, Miz Eileen? You’ll have
the perfect view,” Darius cut in, taking Eileen’s arm and leading her to a
grassy area beneath an old apple tree.

She didn’t even protest.

Either she was exhausted or infatuated.

Neither seemed like a good thing to Catherine. She hated to
think that her grandmother needed to sit after only a few minutes of standing.
She also hated to think that Eileen was putting hopes and dreams into Darius.
Catherine knew Eileen wanted her settled and happy before she died, but she
would be happier and more settled alone.

If only she could convince Eileen of that.

Voices carried on the still air, shouted commands rumbling
through the night. Whatever was going on, Catherine hoped it would be finished
quickly, and she hoped no one would get hurt in the process.

“You okay?” Darius appeared beside her, six feet of lean hard
muscles, but his voice held the gentle cadence of the mourning doves that had
roosted in the eaves of the prison. Peaceful and quiet and unassuming.

“Fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“Thanks,” she responded, because she’d forgotten the art of
easy conversation.

“Maybe I should rephrase that. You look beautiful and exhausted
and a little undone.”

“I’m tired. That’s all.”

“I’m not sure I believe you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“All clear!” someone cried, and Catherine latched onto the
excuse to move away from Darius.

“Eileen, it looks like we can go back inside. Why don’t I help
you back to bed?”

“You’ll have to wait until the bomb squad clears the house.”
The female officer’s pronouncement didn’t seem to bother Eileen, but Catherine
was anxious to retreat and hide herself away for a while.

“Clear the house? Why? No one was in there but us.”

“It’s procedure, ma’am.”

“But—”

“There’s no sense fighting procedure,” Darius interrupted
before she could continue the argument.

“Once they clear the house, we’ll be bringing in evidence
teams. Since your grandmother is so sick, it might be best if you arrange for a
friend to come pick her up and let her stay the night,” the officer added.

A friend?

Catherine couldn’t think of one.

“Is there someone you can stay with, Eileen?” she asked,
bracing herself for what she knew was coming.

“Why would I stay with someone? I’ve got an entire house right
here just waiting for me to get back into it, and
that’s
where I plan to stay.”

“You heard what the officer said. It could be hours before we
can go back inside.”

“Then I guess I’ll sit here for hours and wait.”

“Be reasonable—”

“Why don’t I call one of my coworkers and have you taken to my
place, Miz Eileen? You’ll be more comfortable there. Once everything is cleared
up here, I’ll escort you back,” Darius said, and Eileen smiled.

“Escort me, huh?”

“Of course.”

“I suppose that would be okay. I’ve been wanting to see what
you’re doing at the Morris’s place. Old Man Morris wasn’t so good at keeping up
on the old farmhouse. Not that I’m one to talk. I’ve been slacking lately,
too.”

“This is your lucky night, then. You can explore my place to
your heart’s content.” Darius pulled out a cell phone and took a few steps away,
taking charge and arranging things without bothering to check with Catherine. If
she hadn’t been so anxious to get Eileen settled somewhere, she might have
protested. It was her job to take care of Eileen, after all. Not Darius’s. But
Eileen needed to be warm and comfortable, and Darius was offering her that.
Catherine would be a fool to argue.

The lights in the house went on room by room, shadowy figures
passing in front of windows. A dog barked, but other than that the night had
fallen silent.

The worst seemed to be over, the bomb disarmed and the
perimeter of the house swept, but the taste of fear lingered, hot and metallic
as Catherine waited.

Light appeared in the attic window. Just a few more minutes and
the house would be cleared. Maybe Eileen could go home after all, sleep in the
hospital bed with her well-loved books on the shelves nearby.

“Yo! Osborne! You out here?” a man called out as he rounded the
corner of the house and started across the backyard.

“Over here, Lancaster.”

“Looks like you’ve got a lot going on for a guy who’s on
vacation.” He shook Darius’s hand. Average height, with close-cropped dark hair,
he had a sharply angled jaw and high cheekbones. His eyes might have been blue
or green, but even in the darkness, Catherine could tell they were light with
thick dark lashes.

“Ashton Lancaster, this is Catherine Miller. Catherine,
Ashton.” Darius offered a brief introduction, and Ashton focused all his
attention on Catherine, his expression intense and curious.

He knew who she was.

Most people in the area did, but he kept any thoughts about it
well hidden.

“Nice to meet you, Catherine. Darius explained the situation,
and I’ll take good care of your grandmother.”

“I’ll take good care of myself, young man. So, how about we get
on with things. Fact is, I’m gettin’ a little tired of sitting here.” Eileen
tried to get to her feet, but her spindly legs and arms were too weak.

Catherine took her hand, but Eileen swatted her away. “Let one
of the two boys help me. You’re too puny.”

“I’ve been helping you for two months and haven’t had any
problem.” She moved aside, letting Eileen have her way.

Darius helped Eileen to her feet. “There you are.”

“Thank you. You sure that you don’t have a problem with me
snooping around your place? Because if these old legs can hold me, that’s what
I’m planning to do once we get there.”

“Eileen!” Catherine wanted to slap a hand over her
grandmother’s mouth, keep anything else from popping out of it, but Darius
laughed.

“Snoop as much as you want, but don’t wear yourself out. I’m
trying to stay on Catherine’s good side, and she won’t be happy if you make
yourself sick wandering around my house.”

“Her good side? Don’t bother. It’s not possible,” Eileen
responded.

“That’s not true.” Not really. Catherine was cautious and
careful about her friendships, but that didn’t mean there weren’t people that
she trusted and respected. Ryder Malone, for example. His fiancée, Shelby.
They’d been responsible for her exoneration and release from prison, and she
trusted them completely even if they weren’t part of her daily life.

“If you’re ready, ma’am, I’ll take you over to Osborne’s place
so that you can get started on that snooping.” Ashton slid an arm around
Eileen’s waist and led her away. She looked tiny and fragile next to his strong,
sturdy frame, and Catherine wanted to run after them, slide her arm around
Eileen and help escort her to Darius’s house.

She’d been in prison for four years, and when she’d found out
she was going to be released, her one thought had been Eileen. She knew she’d be
given a nice monetary settlement, compensation for the time she’d served and the
emotional trauma she’d experienced. She’d planned to spend it fixing up Eileen’s
home, making sure her grandmother was comfortable and happy. Then, she’d planned
to leave town and never look back.

Things hadn’t worked out that way.

Seconds after she’d walked into Eileen’s house, she’d known
that her plans would have to change and that things weren’t going to be anything
like she’d imagined them. All her years spent working as a nurse’s aide and then
as a registered nurse had kicked in as she’d looked into Eileen’s jaundiced
eyes.

Sick,
she’d thought.
Really, really sick.

She’d been right.

“You’re deep in thought,” Darius said.

“She doesn’t look good,” she responded.

“I know, and I’m sorry. My mother died of cancer. It’s
difficult to watch someone you love fade away.” He touched her shoulder,
standing beside her as Eileen and Ashton disappeared from view. That small,
tentative connection burned through Catherine until she wanted to lean into
Darius, accept more of his warmth and comfort.

“You were a teenager. It must have been even more difficult for
you.” She moved away, because she was too tempted to do what she shouldn’t. Cold
air swept over her, but the heat of his fingers remained on her shoulder.

“Age has nothing to do with it, Catherine. It’s all about love,
and when you love someone, saying goodbye in bits and pieces is never easy.”

He was right. So right that Catherine’s eyes filled with the
tears she’d been refusing since that first day home, that first glimpse of what
the next weeks and months would bring.

She shoved them away.

“Do you think they’re done checking the inside of the house?”
She changed the subject, because she couldn’t break down. Not in front of Darius
and not alone. Eileen needed her to be strong.
She
needed to be strong, because collapsing into a heap of grief and fear would
accomplish nothing.

“Looks like it. Here comes Randal.” He switched gears easily,
letting the conversation shift.

“Catherine? I saw Eileen heading to Osborne’s place. Good
idea,” Logan said as he approached.

“It wasn’t mine.”

“Still a good idea,” he responded, taking off his hat and
running his hand over thick hair. They’d known each other since their first year
of high school, and Catherine knew the gesture for what it was. Nervous
energy.