When I Find You: A Trust No One Novel (33 page)

Walker breathed in deeply, trying to stifle the feeling of being cheated. He wanted to see the man’s face at the end . . . he would have enjoyed that. Which was exactly why Joe took matters into his own hands and found an alternate way to achieve the same result. His friend was always looking out for him, even when Walker didn’t want him to.

They were silent for a moment before Walker continued, his need to know winning out over his charade of indifference. “Did you get Darcy home safely?”

“Yeah, but Cara may never speak to you again for making us lie to that girl. Darcy was as mad as hell. Her parents seem like good people. With enough time, she’ll put this behind her.”

Walker took no comfort from the words.

“Are you going to call her?”

Walker laughed and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t think she’d be happy to hear from me.”

“You could tell her the truth.”

“It’s better this way.”

“You’re a stubborn man, Walker. What are you going to do now? Lose yourself in a bottle of whiskey?”

“You’ll be glad to know alcohol seems to have lost its appeal for the time being. I’ve been working out . . . and fishing.”

“Fishing? Now I know you’ve gone off the deep end.”

“I even called my old man. Thinking of taking a trip down south.”

“That’s great. It’s long overdue. Take all the time you need, but when you’re ready, come home or I’ll sic Cara on you.”

“I’ll be sure to come home before you do that.” Walker grinned as he hung up.

His friends were concerned about him. Hell, so was he. A couple of days should have done it. He should be over her by now—back to fighting hard and drinking harder. This was all new to him. He’d never felt this way about a woman. How long would it take to stop feeling raw and empty all the time? Maybe he never would. His old friend, whiskey, had failed to alleviate his regret this time, exacerbating his misery instead. So, he’d invested in a pair of running shoes and burned his excess energy running on the beach—but that made him think of Darcy, striding toward him across the sand, her hair windswept and her cheeks flushed, so damn soft and beautiful it made his heart ache to remember.

Nights were the worst. When he couldn’t sleep, which was most of the time, he pictured her naked beneath him, making her little moans and gasps that told him she liked what he was doing to her. Damn it, he wanted her . . . needed her. The practical thought of finding another woman willing to share his bed came and went in the same instant. He didn’t want another woman. Most nights, he got up at least once and stood beneath the cold shower spray until he came back to his senses.

Maybe it was a mistake to stay here in this house where he’d held her and loved her. He should move on. Catch a plane to Georgia and see if he could make amends with his old man—or get Joe to give him another job. Yeah, that was what he needed—something to take his mind off Darcy. He’d get right on that, as soon as he finished the study wall and sanded down the deck where his blood left a stain. Just a few more days and he’d leave this place and his memories behind.

A
WEEK LATER,
Walker locked up the house, eased his pack over his shoulder, and walked down the hill toward town.

His Jeep still awaited him in Tillamook. He had to go retrieve it, but he wasn’t looking forward to seeing the motel where he and Darcy had stayed, not to mention being in the same town as her. Was she doing all right? Was she happy? Damn, he hoped so, because otherwise the guilt that was his constant companion was for nothing.

He hitched a ride from Gold Beach to Depoe Bay and another one to Tillamook. It was a little after eight, dark and drizzly, when he finally unlocked his Jeep, tossed his backpack on the passenger seat, and slid behind the wheel.

Should he stay the night here or forget it and head down the road? He shook his head. There were way more reasons for him to leave than there were to stay.

His Jeep fired right up the instant he turned the key. Shoving it in second gear, he hit the gas and squealed out of the parking lot. He made it about a block before he pulled to the curb. Clenching the steering wheel until his knuckles burned, he took a deep breath and forced himself to relax as he leaned back against the headrest.

He’d made a promise to himself . . . and to Darcy, and he’d be damned if he’d let it go.

Slowly, he turned his head and studied the busy parking lot across the street. The two-tone brown building beside it sported a sign advertising steak and seafood—open ‘til nine. Was Robby working tonight? If not, it shouldn’t be too difficult to find out where he lived. Walker stepped from the Jeep and crossed the street.

A flash of recognition in Robby’s eyes preceded nervous stuttering as he showed Walker to a table near the back of the dining area. Good—the punk remembered who he was.

Walker ordered baked salmon, a salad, and coffee and took his sweet time eating. There was one other table still occupied, a young couple lingering over wine, when Walker finally paid his tab and left.

He crossed the street, leaned against the door of his Jeep, and waited, chewing the already slivered end of his toothpick. The young couple came out, got in their car, and drove away. That left three employee vehicles at the farthest edge of the lot.

Walker had been operating on bloodlust for the last hour. Just the thought of that creep touching Darcy, hurting her, made him itch to smash something, and if it was Robby’s face, so much the better. Now, however, the image of her smiling, laughing, happy in spite of everything that happened to her, made him question why he was here. Was it really justice for what Robby did to her? Or was Robby a convenient substitute to bear the punishment for what Walker did to her?

Shit. What the hell was he doing? He’d have gotten in his Jeep and driven away if Robby and two other employees hadn’t walked out the front door at that moment. The kid looked right at him and, to Walker’s surprise, bade his companions good-bye and started across the street toward him.

He looked cocky, and Walker automatically glanced around to see if he’d called for reinforcements. There was no one else on the street. His gaze swung back to Robby as he swaggered to within six feet.

“You’re Darcy’s friend, aren’t you? What did that bitch tell you about me?” Robby’s scornful glance flickered over him.

Walker tensed. The kid knew how to push his buttons. Maybe he’d been too hasty, deciding to leave him in one piece and go. He studied the face across from him. The younger man obviously thought youth and bravado were the answers to everything. He had no way of knowing being an overconfident hoodlum was nothing compared to the years of the kind of experience Walker had. He almost felt sorry for the kid. This was just too easy.

Walker made his decision. Pushing away from the Jeep, he reached for the door handle.

“That’s it? You’re leaving? I thought maybe you came to teach me a lesson.” Robby’s voice dripped with scorn.

Walker hesitated and shot him a warning glance. “You’re not worth my time.” He pulled the door open.

“Well, I think you’re a coward.”

From the corners of his eyes, Walker saw the glint of steel as it arced toward him. The blade sliced through the fabric of his flannel shirt and pierced the flesh of his upper arm, stinging like hell as blood ran down his arm. Without thinking, he went on the offensive. Before Robby could regain his balance, Walker grabbed the hand with the knife and jammed it into the side of the Jeep until the kid lost his grip and the blade clattered to the ground. Then he yanked Robby’s arm around behind him, pushing it up toward his shoulder blade without mercy, and slammed him up against the vehicle.

Robby shrieked in pain, standing on his tiptoes to alleviate the pressure on his arm. Walker let up a little, but rage won out as he thought about this asshole raping a seventeen-year-old girl who just wanted a date to the prom. The fact that it was Darcy made him want to rip the guy’s arm off. Walker pushed his arm up another inch and waited for his scream.

“Have I got your attention now?” Walker leaned into his arm again when he didn’t respond.

“Yes! Yes! Shit!”

“You’re pretty tough with young girls, aren’t you, Robby? You might have made a mistake here, though, taking on someone who can fight back. I was going to walk away, but now . . . now I can’t think of a single reason why I should. Can you?” Walker applied more pressure to his arm.

“I’m sorry, man! I didn’t mean to hurt her!” Robby’s arrogance was gone.

Walker drew the Mexican drug lord’s knife from his scabbard. “I don’t believe you. I think you not only meant to hurt her, but to humiliate her and make her life a living hell.” He pressed the tip of the knife into the palm of Robby’s hand until a small bead of blood appeared and the kid jerked and sucked in air. “I think you knew she’d never say a word to her father and it made you feel like a big man to have that control over her. Do you even realize how lucky you are she never talked? Spending two years in juvie and registering as a sexual predator would have changed your pitiful life. Chances are you’d be in prison now. In my opinion, that’s where you belong.”

“What do you want me to do? I can’t change what happened.”

Walker slid the knife over the kid’s arm, barely breaking the skin, and appreciated the abbreviated curse he received for his trouble. “I’m glad you asked. Darcy might be in town for a while.” He leaned in and spoke close to Robby’s ear. “If I hear that you even walked down the same side of the street as her, I’ll be back with this knife, and I’ll cut your balls off. Do you understand?” Walker pushed his arm up again.

“Yes!” Robby cried. “I understand. I won’t go near the . . . I won’t go near her.”

“Good answer.” Walker pulled him away from the Jeep, swung him around, and gave him a shove toward the opposite side of the street. When Robby caught his balance, he cradled his arm with his other hand and ran for his car. Walker watched until the car screeched from the lot and disappeared.

A red stain seeped all the way down his sleeve, but the bleeding had stopped, and the gash looked clean. Still, his instinct was to find a place to spend the night, dress the wound, and not take a chance on infection setting in. He rejected the motel down the street with its fresh coat of paint to hide the scorch marks from their recent fire. Sticking to the back streets, he drove as though he knew where he was going, so he wasn’t surprised when he pulled into a driveway and parked in front of a sprawling, ranch-style house on Nielson Road.

Joe had given him the address after he and Cara had delivered Darcy to her parents’ house—just in case, he’d said. In case what? In case Walker decided to force his way back into her life after she’d said she’d never forgive him? Or in case he opted to tell her the truth about Johnny, further endangering her life? He tore his gaze away from the house where light poured from every window, to stare into the darkness on the other side of the road. Why was he incapable of letting this woman go?

He just needed to see where she was staying . . . that she was safe, with people who loved her. By the look of the house, all lit up, he didn’t have to worry about that. Her parents were good people, Joe said. They’d take care of her . . . make sure she got her life back on track. He could go back to his life knowing she’d be okay.

In spite of his best intentions, he found himself standing on the porch in front of the house, reaching for the doorbell. Heavy footsteps approached the door, and a man in his late fifties, tall and wiry, with a full head of graying hair and familiar green eyes swung the door open and stared at him as though he’d just discovered an encyclopedia salesman on his front step.

Walker started to speak, then cleared his throat and tried again. “Name’s Walker. I’m a friend of your daughter.”

The man’s gaze slid over him, coming to rest on his torn and bloodstained sleeve, then flew back to Walker’s face. “You the man that’s making my little girl cry?”

“I’m sure I’m at least partly to blame.” Walker didn’t look away from the man’s accusing glare, but the dull ache in his chest became a sharp pain.

The old man’s gaze returned to Walker’s wound. “You been in a fight, son?”

“It was more of a confrontation.”

A half smile came and went on the man’s face. “Who with?”

“A smartass punk named Robby. He . . .”

“I know who he is. I assume you had a good reason?”

“Yes, sir, I did.”

“Did your reason have anything to do with my daughter?”

“Everything to do with her.”

Darcy’s father hung his head and ran his hand through his hair. “She never told me . . . but I knew. I shoulda . . .” He raised his head again and looked Walker in the eyes. “I hope to hell you taught the son of a bitch a lesson.”

“Well, sir, I think I got my point across.”

“Stop callin’ me sir. Name’s Tom.” He gripped Walker’s hand in a firm shake. “Come in and let me look at that scratch there on your arm.”

Walker shook his head. “I don’t want to cause you any trouble. I just . . . I need to know if she’s okay.”

“You’ll have to hang around here for a few days, until she and her mother get back from a little trip they took. In the meantime, you can tell me why, since you’re obviously in love with my daughter, you don’t want to stick around and see if she feels the same way.” Tom opened the door all the way and stood aside, waiting.

Walker stepped over the threshold in a state of amazement. Darcy’s father saw him fresh from a fight, bloody, and disheveled, and not only did Tom invite him into the house, but he didn’t seem at all appalled that Walker might be in love with his daughter. With a grim set to his mouth, he followed Tom into the kitchen. No doubt Darcy’s father would change his mind when he learned what kind of man Walker really was.

Chapter Twenty-Four

D
ARCY WIPED AWAY
the tears that moistened her cheeks, stopped with a folded shirt poised to drop into her suitcase, and glanced at her mother as the older woman leaned through the bedroom door. Turning away would do no good, but it was habit by now, so she focused again on her packing. An expectant silence told Darcy her mother hadn’t missed her tearstained face this time, or any of the countless other times she’d caught her daughter crying on this trip. After the first time, she’d never again asked why—just wore a worried frown that etched lines on her forehead and made Darcy squirm with guilt.