Secrets in a Small Town (6 page)

The cops still hadn’t located that worthless SOB, which meant Gretchen was still unaccounted for. He had a scared little girl camped out on his couch and there was nothing he could offer her for comfort aside from a cup of warm milk. Hell, he didn’t even have any chocolate powder he could mix in. His house wasn’t made for guests. It was a space where he washed his clothes, sometimes ate and, most times, crashed when he was too tired to keep his eyes open a minute longer.

He scrubbed his hand over his face, feeling each and every year of his life weighing down on him. That sick feeling in his stomach intensified when he thought of how much worse the situation could have been if Quinn had been taken, too.

That sick bastard. Who kicks a pregnant woman in the stomach, much less the woman carrying your child? He couldn’t even fathom. In the eyes of the law, his father was scum, not worth the price of the bullet that ended his life, but to him, he’d been a fabulous father and one of the things he’d always taught Owen was to treat women kindly.

“Son, you always got to watch out for the welfare of your woman. She’s the weaker sex and the Bible tells us we have to protect them,” his father had said one day when he’d gotten his tail chewed for throwing a rock in the general direction of an obnoxious little girl named Patty living on the compound with them.

“Even colored girls?” he’d asked, wiping at his nose and glowering in Patty’s direction because she’d started the fight and then run to her daddy when he’d fought back.

His father, leader of the Aryan Coalition, had straightened, glanced around before answering in a lowered voice so only Owen could hear. “Even colored girls, son. A man isn’t a man the minute he hits a woman. You got that?”

“Yessir,” he’d answered glumly, still angry but not about to go against his father. “Don’t seem fair that she started it, though,” he’d added, glancing up at his dad.

Ty Garrett had smiled. “Never is, son. It never is. Don’t change a thing.”

Owen roused himself from the memory. It was hard to reconcile that image of his father with the one everyone else harbored. He shook off his melancholy. No sense in crying over the past. Not right now, anyway. He had bigger problems.

“Gretchen…” he muttered to himself, checking one last time on Quinn, who was fast asleep. “If you manage to make it through the night, you’d better promise me you’ll break up with this bastard.”

He turned off the lights and resigned himself to a restless night.

He listened as the police officer gave him as much information as he knew, which wasn’t a lot aside from the fact that she’d been beaten and left for dead like roadkill.

“Danny Mathers did this,” he said in a low tone so as not to wake Quinn.

“We’ll find him,” the officer assured him. “You can see her tomorrow if the doctor thinks she can have visitors. Is her daughter all right with you for a few days?”

He glanced over at Quinn, a small bundle curled on his lumpy sofa, and he nodded. “Yeah. No problem.”

“Good. If you change your mind, we can call social services but since you’re her emergency contact, we figured the girl was safe with you for the time being.”

“What about the baby?” he asked, his throat tight, almost afraid to know.

There was a long pause and then the officer said, “It doesn’t look good.” He rattled off a case number for reference in case Owen needed it later and hung up.

Returning to his bedroom, he fell back into bed and wondered how the hell he was going to run a business without Gretchen at the office and with Quinn at his heels.

Ah, hell, he thought just as his eyes fluttered shut.

That reporter was coming tomorrow.

Shit. The day had just officially gone from bad to worse.

Finally, she was dressed—hopefully for success—and ready to leave. She grabbed her extra notebook and her camera and left for Big Trees Logging administrative offices.

But when she arrived, she was disappointed by Owen’s absence. The office was locked up tight and there was no one around to even question. She frowned and muttered something that would make a sailor proud and contemplated her next move. A deal was a deal, she groused, glancing around the deserted office. Well, if he wasn’t going to meet her, she’d meet him. She just happened to know his home address. The internet was a beautiful thing, particularly when one knew what to look for. She smiled and climbed back into her car. Owen was going to learn that she didn’t give up easily.

“I didn’t forget. Just a little busy at the moment,” he said curtly, adding over his shoulder. “No need to chase me down like the damn paparazzi.”

She scowled, obviously taking offense at the term, but she also had the grace to notice Quinn. Her frown eased and something akin to guilt flushed her face. “I didn’t know you’d still have…um…”

“Her name is Quinn,” he answered, reaching down to lift the girl into the truck. “And we’re late for school. We’ll have to table this until later.”

“Later when?” she asked, concerned. “I’m ready now.”

“Well, I’m not.” The engine of his diesel truck rumbled to life and she scrunched her nose at the sound. He glanced at her ride—a hybrid of some sort—and he resisted the urge to smirk. She probably didn’t think too highly of his truck. “Later.”

“No, wait,” she exclaimed, running after the vehicle as he slowly pulled away. “When? I need a date and time. A commitment! Owen! I swear to God I’ll run that story with all the gory details if you don’t stop this instant and talk to me instead of running off with some lame excuse.”

The truck growled to a stop and idled loudly. Owen’s brows pulled together in a harsh line. “We had a deal,” he reminded her.

How was it that he got more handsome when he looked ready to tear someone’s head off? Mainly hers as of late? She pushed that annoying thought aside and took a step his way, going so far as to stand on the running board and to get right into his face. “That’s right. We did. So honor it.”

A tense moment passed between them and she half wondered if she hadn’t pushed too far and she was a heartbeat away from getting tossed as he peeled away. Just when she thought she might have to back down, he jerked his head toward the passenger seat and instructed her to “Get in or get off.”

She jumped down and scrambled to the passenger side and climbed in beside Quinn with a sense of triumph.

“Thank you. I—” she started amiably until Owen cut her off by switching the radio on and drowning her out with a blast of country music.

By way of explanation, he said, “Interview’s not yet,” and then, tucking his arm out the window, he tuned her out as effectively as if he’d left her standing alongside the road.

Oh, and she hated country music. Was it possible that he knew that? Quite possible and he was loving the advantage.

So much for swimming with sharks.

Right about now she felt like a guppy—and it had nothing to do with her outfit.

And his hormones had picked a cherry of a time to remind him of that fact.

He climbed into his truck and tried not to look at her.

“So are you ready now?” she asked.

He turned to her, forgetting his seconds-earlier decree to stay focused on the road rather than her for the time being. “You’re something else, you know that?” he said, his tone hard. “Do you ever think of anyone other than yourself? Quinn is going through something you can’t even imagine yet all you can focus on is your story. You haven’t even asked if Gretchen has been found.”

She drew back imperceptibly and her eyelashes fluttered as if she were trying to find an acceptable comeback yet found herself struggling. She moistened her lips and the slight motion drew his reluctant attention to the soft fullness of her pink lips. Totally clear of make-up of any kind, she had a dewy freshness about her that made his mind wander into dark corners before he realized where he was going.

“I’m just doing my job and, since you’d already removed the possibility of doing the story on Gretchen, I had moved on,” she said finally, her chin jutting out, but her eyes held a wounded softness that he found incredibly intriguing. Sweet and charming yet hiding a dagger behind her back. That was Piper Sunday. He needed to stay reminded of that fact before he found himself stuck and bleeding. She glanced over at him through a thick curtain of lashes, adding stiffly, “I’m assuming she’s been found. I haven’t heard any chatter on the scanner that would support the fact that they were still searching for her.” When he grunted an affirmative, she nodded and tacked on, “I’m glad she’s been found. How is she?”

“You don’t need to patronize me. I know you don’t care, and your fake concern is insulting.”

She glared but shifted in her seat as if his words had illuminated an uncomfortable truth. “Of course I care. Are you going to tell me or do I have to find out through the grapevine?”

He could only imagine the tangled network that comprised the local grapevine and he didn’t want to take the chance of Piper getting hold of bad information, so he told her what he knew. “She’s pretty banged up. The guy who did this left her alongside the road to die. I’m not even sure if the baby made it.”

“I didn’t know she was pregnant,” she murmured, peering at him oddly. “Is it…your baby?” she ventured hesitantly.

At that, he nearly did a double take. His kid? “She’s my office manager,” he said in a tone that communicated what he thought about dating employees.

“It’s not against the law,” she said, but the way her shoulders relaxed told him she’d been tense over the possibility he’d been shacking up with Gretchen.

“That’s not how I operate,” he grumbled, annoyed at how a minute thrill chased the knowledge she’d been apprehensive over his dating choices. He risked a short glance her way. “I draw the line at employees and cousins.”

That last part was meant as a joke and he was relieved to see her crack a reluctant smile.

“So why is her daughter with you?” she asked. “I assumed because you were there for her at school that maybe you and her mom were a couple.”

“I was just helping Gretchen out. She’s a good woman with questionable taste in men. And Quinn’s a great kid.”

A slow smile lifted her mouth but she appeared perplexed by the information. Someone must’ve been filling her ear with bad press when it came to him, for she seemed suddenly adrift. “That’s very nice of you,” she finally said.

“Yeah, sometimes I take a break from ruining the environment to be kind to someone else,” he quipped, turning to face her. “Listen, we got off on a bad foot. We don’t have to be enemies. I’m prepared to let bygones be bygones if we can start fresh.”

“And what does that entail?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I still have a job to do. Are you still willing to do the interview?”

“Of course,” he stated.

“Okay. Then I’m willing to accept those terms,” she answered with an efficient nod that went as a perfect accessory to her flawless look. He wondered if she let herself go wild in the bedroom. And then because his mind had already sparked the question, his imagination provided the imagery. His groin tightened as he saw in his mind’s eye a bed-tousled Piper in a sea of tangled sheets with a wicked, come-get-me-bad-boy smile. Hell, that’s not helpful at all, he chastised himself. “Shall we head to your office to get started?” she asked, her eyes bright and cheery with expectation.

But he didn’t want to be stuck indoors. It was part of the reason he’d gone into forestry. He hated being rooted to a desk for eight hours. He needed fresh air and a distraction. He started the truck and pulled onto the highway.

“Speaking of jobs, I have one, too. You want your interview? You have to tag along with me to the job site.”

“And where’s that?” she asked, trying to appear unconcerned by his announcement.

He grinned and pulled onto the highway. “Up on the mountain. Where else?”