Читать книгу The Protectors: Defending His Own / Guarding Jeannie - BEVERLY BARTON, Beverly Barton - Страница 8

As Ashe drove his rental car up Montgomery Avenue, into the downtown area of Sheffield, he noticed the new businesses, mostly restaurants—Louisiana, Milestones and New Orleans Transfer. Come what may, Southerners were going to eat well. Mama Mattie’s homespun philosophy had always been that if folks spent their money on good food, they wouldn’t need to spend it on a doctor.

Mama Mattie. How he loved that old woman. She was probably the only person he’d ever truly loved. The only person who had ever really loved him. He could barely remember a time during his growing up years when he hadn’t lived with her. He had faint memories of living in a trailer out in Leighton. Before he’d started school. Before his daddy had caught his mama in bed with another man and shot them both.

The courts had sentenced JoJo McLaughlin to life in prison, and that’s where he’d died, seven years later.

Mama Mattie had tried to protect Ashe from the ugly truth, from the snide remarks of unthinking adults and the vicious taunts of his schoolmates. But his grandmother had been powerless to protect him from the reality of class distinction, from the social snobbery and inbred attitudes of elite families, like the Vaughns, for whom she worked.

If he’d had a lick of sense, he would have stayed in his place and been content to work at the service station during the day and at the country club as a busboy on weekend nights. But no, Ashe McLaughlin, that bad boy who’d come from white trash outlaws, had wanted to better himself. It didn’t matter to anyone that he graduated salutatorian of his high school class or that he attended the University of North Alabama on an academic scholarship. He still wasn’t good enough to associate with the right people.

He had thought Whitney Vaughn cared about him, that their passionate affair would end in marriage. He’d been a fool. But he’d been an even bigger fool to trust sweet little Deborah, who professed to be his friend, who claimed she would love him until the day she died.

Crossing the railroad tracks, Ashe turned off Shop Pike and drove directly to Mama Mattie’s neat frame house.

When he stepped out of the car, he saw her standing in the doorway, tall, broad-shouldered, her white hair permed into a halo of curls around her lean face.

He had sent her money over the years. Wrote her occasionally. Called her on her birthday and holidays. Picked up special gifts for her from around the world. She had asked him to come home a few times during the first couple of years after he joined the army, but she’d finally quit asking.

She wrote him faithfully, once a month, always thanking him for his kindness, assuring him she and Annie Laurie were well. Sometimes she’d mention that Miss Carol had dropped by for a visit, and told him what a precious little boy Allen Vaughn was. But she never mentioned Deborah. It was as if she knew he couldn’t bear for her name to be mentioned.

Mattie Trotter opened the storm door, walked out onto the front porch and held open her arms. Ashe’s slow, easy gait picked up speed as he drew closer to his grandmother. Taking the steps two at a time, he threw his arms around Mama Mattie, lifting her off her feet.

“Put me down, you silly boy! You’ll throw out your back picking me up.” All the while she scolded, she smiled, that warm, loving smile Ashe well remembered from his childhood.

Placing her on her feet, he slipped his arm around her waist, hugging her to his side. She lacked only a few inches being as tall as he was. “It’s so good to see you again, Mama Mattie.”

“Come on inside.” She opened the storm door. “I’ve made those tea cakes you always loved, and only a few minutes ago, I put on a fresh pot of that expensive coffee you sent me from Atlanta.”

Ashe glanced around the living room. Small, not more than twelve by fourteen. A tan sofa, arms and cushions well-worn, sat against the picture window, a matching chair to the left. The new plaid recliner Ashe had sent her for Christmas held a fat, gray cat, who stared up at Ashe with complete disinterest.

“That’s Annie Laurie’s Mr. Higgins. She’s spoiled him rotten,” Mattie said. “But to be honest, I’m pretty fond of him myself. Sit down, Ashe, sit down.”

He sat beside her on the sofa. She clasped his hands. “There were times when I wondered if I’d ever see you again. I’m an old woman and only God knows how much longer I’m going to be in this world.”

“Don’t talk like that. You’ll live to be a hundred.”

Releasing his hands, she looked directly into his eyes. “Have you seen Deborah?”

“Yeah, Mama Mattie, I’ve seen Deborah Vaughn.”

“She turned out to be a beautiful woman, didn’t she?”

“She was always beautiful, just not…not finished.”

“Miss Carol looks bad, doesn’t she?” Mattie shook her head sadly. “That bout she had with cancer a while back took its toll on her. She’s in remission now, but we all live in fear she’ll have a relapse.”

“She aged more than I’d expected,” Ashe said, recalling how incredibly lovely Carol Vaughn had once been. “But nothing else has changed about her. She’s still a very kind lady.”

“So is Deborah.”

“Don’t!” Ashe stood abruptly, turning his back on his grandmother, not wanting to hear her defend the woman who had been responsible for having him run out of town eleven years ago.

Mattie sighed. “I still say you judged her wrong. She was just a child. Seventeen. You rejected all that sweet, young love she felt for you. If she went to her daddy the way you think she did, then you shouldn’t hold it against her. My God, boy, you took her innocence and then told her you didn’t want her.”

“It wasn’t like that and you damn well know it.” Ashe needed to hit something, smash anything into a zillion pieces. He hated remembering what he’d done and what his stupidity had cost him.

“Don’t you swear at me, boy.” Mattie narrowed her eyes, giving her grandson a killing look.

“I’m sorry, Mama Mattie, but I didn’t come by to see you so we could have that old argument about Deborah Vaughn.” Ashe headed toward the kitchen. “Where are those tea cakes?”

Mattie followed him, busying herself with pouring coffee into brown ceramic mugs while Ashe devoured three tea cakes in quick succession. He pulled out a metal and vinyl chair and sat down at the table.

“They taste just the same. As good as I remember.”

He would never forget walking into the Vaughns’ kitchen after school every day, laying his books on the table and raiding Mama Mattie’s tea cake tray. More often than not, he and Annie Laurie rode home with Miss Carol when she picked up Deborah and Whitney from school.

Whitney had ignored him as much as possible, often complaining to her aunt that she thought it disgraceful they had to be seen with those children. He supposed her haughty attitude had given him more reason to want to bring her down to his level, and eventually he’d done just that. He hadn’t been Whitney’s first, but he hadn’t cared. She’d been hot and eager and he’d thought she really loved him.

All the while he’d been drooling over Whitney, he hadn’t missed the way Deborah stared at him, those big blue eyes of hers filled with undisguised adoration.

“Thinking about those afternoons in the Vaughn kitchen?” Mattie asked.

“What is it with you and Miss Carol? Both of you seem determined to resurrect some sort of romance between Deborah and me.” Ashe lifted the coffee mug to his lips, sipped the delicious brew and held his mug in his hand. “Deborah and I were never sweethearts. We weren’t in love. I liked her and she had a big teenage crush on me. That’s all there ever was to it. So tell me what’s going on?”

“Neither one of you has ever gotten married.”

“Are you saying you’d like to see me married to Deborah?” Ashe’s laughter combined a snicker, a chuckle and a groan. “It’s never going to happen. Not in a million years. Wherever did you get such a crazy idea?”

“You came back home when Miss Carol called and told you that Deborah was in trouble, that her life was in danger,” Mattie said. “In eleven years nothing I’ve said or done could persuade you to return. And don’t try to tell me that you came back because of Miss Carol. You could have sent another man from that private security place where you work. You didn’t have to come yourself and we both know it.”

“Miss Carol asked for me, personally. I knew how sick she’d been. You’ve told me again and again that you were afraid she might die.”

“So knowing Buck Stansell is probably out to stop Deborah from testifying didn’t have anything to do with your coming home? You don’t care what happens to her?”

“I didn’t say I don’t care. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to her.” When Miss Carol had first telephoned him and explained the situation, his blood had run cold at the thought of anyone harming Deborah. Despite what she’d done to him, he couldn’t help remembering the sweet, generous, loving girl he’d known since she was a small child. He had thought she didn’t matter to him, that he didn’t even hate her anymore. But he’d been wrong. He cared. He cared too damned much. Now that he’d seen Deborah again, he was worried that he couldn’t act as her bodyguard and keep their relationship on a purely business level. And that could be dangerous for both of them. If he was smart, he’d call Sam Dundee and tell him to put another agent on the first available flight out of Atlanta.

But where Deborah Vaughn was concerned, he’d never been smart. Not when he had ignored her to pay court to her older cousin. Not when he’d accepted her comfort and love when Whitney had rejected him. And not when he’d been certain she would never betray him to anyone, least of all her father.

Mattie poured herself a second cup of coffee, broke a tea cake in two and popped half into her mouth. Chewing slowly, she watched Ashe. When he turned around and caught her staring at him, he smiled.

“All right. I admit it. Part of the reason I agreed to Miss Carol’s request was because I don’t want to see anything happen to Deborah. There. I said it. Are you satisfied?”

Mattie grinned, showing her perfect, white dentures. “You ought to go have a talk with Lee Roy and Johnny Joe. They’re working for Buck Stansell, you know.”

“Yeah, I figured as much, since their daddy and mine were both part of that gang years ago, along with Buck’s daddy.”

“Well, I don’t trust Johnny Joe, but I always saw something in Lee Roy that made me think he was a mite better than that bunch of trash he came from.”

“Hey, watch what you’re saying, Mama Mattie. You’re talking about my family.” Ashe grinned.

“Your daddy’s family, not mine, and not yours. I think Johnny Joe took after his daddy and his Uncle JoJo, where Lee Roy reminds me a bit of your daddy’s sister. She wasn’t such a bad girl. She and your mama always got along.”

“You think Lee Roy and Johnny Joe know something about the threats against Deborah?” Ashe asked.

“Can’t nobody prove nothing, but folks know that Buck Stan-sell was behind that killing Deborah witnessed. Whoever’s been sending her those notes and making those phone calls, you can bet your bottom dollar that Buck’s behind it all.”

“What do you know about this Lon Sparks? I don’t remember him.”

“No reason you should. He showed up around these parts a few years back. I hear he come up from Corinth with a couple of other guys that Buck recruited when he expanded his drug dealings.”

“How do you know so much, old woman?” Ashe laid his hand over his grandmother’s where it rested beside her coffee cup.

“Everybody hears things. I hear things. At the beauty shop. At the grocery store. At church.”

“After I’ve settled in and made my presence known, I’ll take a ride out to Leighton and see how my cousins are doing.”

“You be careful, Ashe. Buck Stansell isn’t the kind of man to roll over and play dead just because Deborah’s got herself a bodyguard.”

“Don’t you worry. I’m not stupid enough to underestimate Buck. I remember him and his old man. I’ve come up against their type all over the world.”

“While you’re taking care of Deborah and Miss Carol and that precious little Allen, make sure you take care of yourself, too.” Mattie squeezed her grandson’s big hand.

The back door swung open and a tall, thin young woman in a sedate gray pantsuit walked in and stopped dead still when she saw Ashe.”

“Oh, my goodness, it’s really you!” Annie Laurie threw herself into Ashe’s arms. “Mama Mattie said you’d come home, but I wasn’t so sure. You’ve been away forever and ever.”

Mr. Higgins sneaked into the kitchen, staring up at Annie Laurie, purring lightly.

Ashe held his cousin at arm’s length, remembering the first time he’d seen her. She’d been a skinny eight-year-old whose parents had been killed in an automobile accident. Mama Mattie, Annie Laurie’s mother’s aunt, had been the child’s closest relative and hadn’t hesitated to open her home and heart to the girl, just as she had done for Ashe. “Here, let me have a good look at you. My, my. You sure have grown. And into a right pretty young lady.”

Blushing, Annie Laurie shoved her slipping glasses back up her nose. “You haven’t seen me since I was thirteen.”

Hearing a car exit the driveway, Ashe glanced out the window in time to see a black Mercedes backing up, a familiar looking redheaded guy driving.

“Your boyfriend bring you home from work?” Ashe asked.

Annie Laurie’s pink cheeks flamed bright red. She cast her gaze down toward the floor, then bent over, picked up Mr. Higgins and held him in her arms.

“Stop teasing the girl,” Mattie said.

“He’s not your boyfriend?” Ashe lifted her chin.

“He’s my boss.”

“Your boss?”

“That was Neil Posey,” Mattie said. “You remember him. He’s Archie Posey’s son. He’s partners with Deborah in their daddies’ real estate firm.”

“You work for Vaughn & Posey Real Estate?” Ashe asked. “I guess Mama Mattie told me and I’d just forgotten.”

“I’m Neil’s…that is Mr. Posey’s secretary. And he’s not my boyfriend. He’s Deborah’s…I mean, he likes her.”

“What?” Ashe laughed aloud. Neil Posey was Deborah’s boyfriend? That short, stocky egghead with carrot red hair and trillions of freckles.

“I’ve tried to tell Annie Laurie that Deborah isn’t interested in Neil just because he follows her around like a lovesick puppy dog.” Mattie shook her head, motioning for Ashe to let the subject drop. “Are you staying for supper? I’ve got some chicken all thawed out. It won’t take me long to fry it up.”

“Sorry, Mama Mattie, I’m expected for dinner at the Vaughns’, but I’m looking forward to some of your fried chicken while I’m home.”

“You be sure and tell Deborah and Miss Carol I asked about them,” Mattie said. “And, here, take Allen some of my tea cakes. He loves them as much as you used to when you were his age.”

Ashe caught an odd look in his grandmother’s eyes. It was as if she knew something she wanted him to know, but for some reason didn’t see fit to tell him. He shook off the notion, picked up his coffee mug and relaxed, enjoying being home. Back in his grandmother’s house. Back with the only real family he’d ever known.

Deborah checked her appearance in the cheval mirror, tightened the backs of her pearl earrings and lifted the edge of her neckline so that her pearl necklace lay precisely right. Ashe McLaughlin’s presence at their dinner table tonight had absolutely nothing to do with her concern about her appearance, she told herself, and knew it was a lie. Her undue concern was due to Ashe, and so was her nervousness.

Didn’t she have enough problems without Ashe reappearing in her life after eleven years? How could her mother have thought that bringing that man back into their lives could actually help her? She’d almost rather face Buck Stansell alone than have to endure weeks with Ashe McLaughlin at her side twenty-four hours a day.

Of course, her mother had been right in hiring a personal bodyguard for her. She had to admit that she’d considered the possibility herself. But not Ashe!

Ever since she had inadvertently driven up on the scene of Corey Looney’s execution, she had been plagued by nightmares. Both awake and asleep. Time and again she saw the gun, the blood, the man’s body slump to the ground. Even in the quiet of her dark bedroom, alone at night, she could hear the sound of the gun firing.

Shivers racked Deborah’s body. Chill bumps broke out on her arms. The letters and telephone calls had begun the day the sheriff arrested Lon Sparks. At first she had tried to dismiss them, but when they persisted, even the local authorities became concerned.

Colbert County’s sheriff and an old family acquaintance, Charlie Blaylock, had assigned a deputy to her before and during the preliminary hearing, but couldn’t spare a man for twenty-four-hour-a-day protection on an indefinite basis. Charlie had spoken to the state people, the FBI and the DEA, hoping one or more of the agencies’ interest in Buck Stansell’s dealings might bring in assistance and protection for Deborah.

But there was no proof Buck Stansell was involved, even though everyone knew Lon Sparks worked for Stansell. The federal boys wanted to step in, but murder in Colbert County was a local crime. They’d keep close tabs on the situation, but couldn’t become officially involved.

Charlie had been the one to suggest hiring a private bodyguard. Deborah had agreed to consider the suggestion, never dreaming her mother would take matters into her own hands and hire Ashe McLaughlin.

Closing the door behind her, Deborah stepped out into the upstairs hallway, took a deep breath and ventured down the stairs. When she entered the foyer, she heard voices coming from the library, a room that had once been her father’s private domain. Her mother had kept the masculine flavor of the room, but had turned it into a casual family retreat where she or Deborah often helped Allen with his homework. The old library was more a family room now.

She stood in the open doorway, watching and listening, totally unnoticed at first. Her mother sat in a tan-and-rust floral print chair, her current needlepoint project in her hand. She smiled, her gaze focused on Allen and Ashe, who were both sitting on the Tabriz rug, video-game controls in their hands as they fought out a battle on the television screen before them.

“You’re good at this,” Allen said. “Are you sure you don’t have a kid of your own you play with all the time?”

Deborah sucked in a deep breath, the sting of her son’s words piercing her heart. She couldn’t bear the way Allen looked at Ashe, so in awe of the big, friendly man he must never know was his father.

“I don’t have any kids of my own.” Ashe hadn’t thought much about having a family. His life didn’t include a place for a wife and children, although at one time, a family had been high on his list of priorities—eleven years ago when he’d thought he would marry Whitney Vaughn and carve a place for himself in local society. Hell, he’d been a fool in more ways than one.

“You should be thinking about a family, Ashe,” Carol Vaughn said, laying aside her needlework. “You’re how old now, thirty-two? Surely you’ve sowed all the wild oats a man would need to sow.”

Ashe turned his head, smiled at Carol, then frowned when he caught sight of Deborah standing in the doorway. “I haven’t really given marriage a thought since I left Sheffield. When a man puts his trust in the wrong woman, more than once, the way I did, it makes him a little gun-shy.”

Deborah met his fierce gaze directly, not wavering the slightest when he glared at her with those striking hazel eyes…gold-flecked green eyes made even more dramatic since they were set in a hard, lean, darkly tanned face.

Ashe realized that he could not win the game of staring her down. Deborah Vaughn had changed. She was no longer the shy, quiet girl who always seemed afraid to look him in the eye. Now she seemed determined to prove to him how tough she was, how totally immune she was to him.

With that cold, determined stare she told him that he no longer had any power over her, that the lovesick girl she’d once been no longer existed. Her aversion to him came as no great surprise, but what did unsettle him was her accusatory attitude, as if she found him at fault.

All right, he had taken her innocence when he’d had no right to touch her, but he’d told her he was sorry and begged her to forgive him. He had rejected her girlish declaration of love as gently as he’d known how. If he’d been a real cad, he could have taken advantage of her time and again. But he’d cared about Deborah, and his stupidity in taking her just that one time had made him heartsick.

But he had not ruined her life. It had been the other way around. She had almost ruined his a couple of months later by running to her daddy. Why had she done it? Had she hated him that much? Did she still hate him?

Carol glanced at her daughter. “Deborah, come join us. Mazie tells me dinner will be ready promptly at six-thirty.”

“She’s always punctual. Dinner’s at six-thirty every night,” Deborah said.

“She’s prepared Allen’s favorite. Meat loaf with creamed potatoes and green peas,” Carol said.

“Hey, pal, that’s my favorite, too.” Ashe elbowed Allen playfully in the ribs.

Allen leaned into Ashe, toppling the big man over onto the rug. Within seconds the two were wrestling around on the floor.

Deborah looked from father and son to her mother. Nervously she cleared her throat. When no one paid any heed to her, she cleared her throat again.

“Come sit down.” Carol gestured toward the tufted leather sofa. “Let the boys be boys. They’ll tire soon enough.”

When Deborah continued staring at Allen and Ashe rolling around on the floor, both of them laughing, Carol stood and walked over to her daughter.

“Allen needs a man in his life.” Carol slipped her arm around Deborah’s waist, leading her into the room. “He’ll soon be a teenager. He’s going to need a father more than ever then.”

“Hush, Mother! They’ll hear you.”

Carol glanced over at the two rowdy males who stopped abruptly when their roughhousing accidently knocked over a potted plant.

“Uh-oh, Allen, we’ll be in trouble with the ladies now.” Rising to his knees, Ashe swept up the spilled dirt with his hands and dumped it back into the brass pot.

“Don’t worry about it,” Carol said. “I’ll ask Mazie to run the vacuum over what’s left on the rug.”

Deborah glanced down at her gold and diamond wristwatch. “It’s almost six-thirty. I’ll check on dinner and tell Mazie about the accident with the plant.”

The moment Deborah exited the room, Allen shook his head, stood up and brushed off his hands. “What’s the matter with Deborah? She’s acting awful strange.”

“She’s nervous about the upcoming trial, but you know that, Allen.” Carol smiled, first at Allen and then at Ashe. “Our lives have been topsy-turvy for weeks now.”

“No, I’m not talking about that.” Allen nodded toward Ashe. “She’s been acting all goofy ever since Ashe showed up here today.” He turned to Ashe. “Nobody ever answered my question about whether you and Deborah used to be an item.”

“Allen—” Carol said.

“Deborah and I were good friends at one time.” Ashe certainly couldn’t say anything negative about his sister to the boy. “I’m four years older, so I dated older girls.”

“Deborah had a crush on Ashe for years,” Carol said.

When Ashe glanced at Carol, she stared back at him, her look asking something of him that Ashe couldn’t comprehend.

“She liked you, but you didn’t like her back?” Allen asked. “Boy, were you dumb. Deborah’s pretty and about the nicest person in the world.”

“Yeah, Allen, I was pretty dumb all right. I’m a lot smarter now.”

“Well, if Deborah gives you a second chance this time, you won’t mess things up, will you?” Allen looked at him with eyes identical to Deborah’s, the purest, richest blue imaginable.

“I’m not here to romance your sister,” Ashe said. “I’m here to protect her, to make sure—”

Carol cleared her throat; Ashe realized he was saying too much, that they wanted the boy protected from the complete, ugly truth.

“Ashe is here to act as Deborah’s bodyguard. You know, the way famous people have bodyguards to protect them from their overzealous fans. Well, Ashe is going to make sure the reporters and people curious about the trial don’t interfere with her life in any way.”

“The kids at school say Buck Stansell will try to kill Deborah if she tells in court what she saw that man do,” Allen said, looking directly to Ashe for an explanation. “Is that true?”

“No one is going to hurt Deborah while I’m around.” Ashe placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “And I’ll be here until after the trial, maybe a little longer.”

Carol Vaughn sighed. Ashe glanced at the doorway. Deborah had returned and was looking straight at him, her eyes filled with pain and fear and something indiscernible. Longing? Ashe wondered. Or perhaps the remembrance and regret of longing?

Deborah willed herself to be strong, to show no sign of weakness in front of Allen and her mother or in Ashe’s presence. She’d heard Ashe say that no one would hurt her while he was around. For one split second her heart had caught in her throat. He had sounded so determined, so protective, as if he truly cared what happened to her.

“Dinner is ready.” Damn, her voice shouldn’t sound so unsteady. She had to take control. “Is everything all right?”

“Fine,” Carol and Ashe said in unison.

Rushing across the room, Allen threw his arms around Deborah. “I’ll help Ashe protect you. You’ll have two men in your life now, and we’ll make sure nobody bothers you.”

Deborah hugged her son to her, threading her fingers through his thick blond hair. “I feel very safe, knowing that I have you two guys looking out for me.”

Carol Vaughn steered Allen and Ashe into the hall. “You two wash up and meet us in the dining room.” She slipped her arm around Deborah’s waist. “Come, dear.”

Carol managed to keep the conversation directed on Allen during the meal, telling Ashe about the boy’s exploits since early childhood. Deborah wished her mother didn’t have her heart set on reuniting them all. There was no way it would ever happen. She and Ashe didn’t even like each other. She certainly had good reason not to like Ashe, and it seemed he thought he had reason to dislike her.

“I told Mazie to save the apple pie for tomorrow night’s dinner,” Carol said. “Ashe brought us some of Mattie’s delicious homemade tea cakes.”

“I love Mama Mattie’s tea cakes,” Allen said.

Jerking his head around, Ashe stared at Allen. Had he heard correctly? Had Allen Vaughn referred to Ashe’s grandmother as Mama Mattie?

“Mattie insisted Allen call her Mama Mattie.” Carol laid her linen napkin on the table. “She said that she liked to think of Allen as a grandchild.”

Deborah strangled on her iced tea. Lifting her napkin to her mouth, she coughed several times. Her faced turned red. She glared at her mother.

“Let’s have Mazie serve the tea cakes in the library with coffee for us and milk for Allen.” Easing her chair away from the table, Carol stood.

Allen followed Carol out of the dining room, obviously eager for a taste of Mattie Trotter’s tea cakes. Deborah hesitated, waiting for Ashe. He halted at her side as he walked across the room.

“You look lovely tonight,” he said. What the hell had prompted that statement? He’d thought it, and made the remark before thinking.

“Thank you.”

She wore blue silk, the color of her eyes. And pearls. A lady’s jewel. Understated and elegant.

“We’ve tried to protect Allen from the complete truth,” she said. “He’s so young. And he and I are very close. He was only four when Daddy died, and he tries to be our little man.”

“He knows more than you think.” Ashe understood her need to protect the boy; on short acquaintance he felt an affinity with Deborah’s brother and a desire to safeguard him. “Anything made public, he’s bound to hear sooner or later. You’re better off being up front with him.”

“Just what do you know about ten-year-old boys?”

“I know they’re not babies, that a boy as smart as Allen can’t be fooled.”

“It’s not your place to make decisions where—”

The telephone rang. Deborah froze. Ashe wished he could erase the fear he saw in her eyes, the somber expression on her face. “Have you had your number changed? Unlisted?”

“Yes.” She swallowed hard.

“It’s for you, Miss Deborah.” Mazie stood in the doorway holding the portable phone. “It’s Mr. Posey.”

Letting out a sigh, Deborah swayed a fraction. Ashe grabbed her by the elbow.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Deborah took the phone from Mazie, placed her hand over the mouthpiece and looked at Ashe. “Go ahead and join Mother and Allen in the library.”

“Neil Posey?” Ashe asked. “Has he changed any or do his buddies still call him Bozo?”

Deborah widened her eyes, glaring at Ashe as if what he’d said had been sacrilege. Go away. Now. She mouthed the words. Grinning, Ashe threw up his hands in a what-did-I-say gesture, then walked out of the room.

“Neil?”

“I thought perhaps you’d like to take a drive,” he said. “It’s such a lovely autumn night. We could stop by somewhere for coffee later.”

“Oh, that’s such a sweet thought, but I’m afraid…Well, tonight just isn’t good for me. We…that is, Mother has company tonight.”

“I see. I’m disappointed of course, but we’ll just make it another night.”

“Yes, of course.”

“See you tomorrow,” Neil said. “Yes. Tomorrow.” Deborah laid the phone down on the hall table.

Before she took three steps, the telephone rang again. She eyed it with suspicion. Don’t do this to yourself. Answer the damned thing. It’s not going to bite you.

“Hello. Vaughn residence.”

“Deborah?” the man asked.

“Yes.”

“Telling the sheriff what you saw was your first mistake. Testifying in court will be your last mistake.”

“Who is this?” Sheriff Blaylock had put a tap on their telephones, the one in her bedroom and the one in the library. Damn, why hadn’t she remembered not to answer the portable phone?

“This is someone concerned for your safety.”

“How did you get our number?” She gripped the phone with white-knuckled ferocity.

“Change it as many times as you want and we’ll still keep calling.”

“Leave me alone!” Deborah’s voice rose.

Ashe appeared before her, grabbed the phone out of her hand and shoved her aside. She stared at him in disbelief.

“Ms. Vaughn won’t be taking any more phone calls.” He ended the conversation, laid the phone on the hall table, then grabbed Deborah by the arm. “From now on, you’re not to answer the phone. Mazie or I will screen all the incoming calls.”

The touch of his big hand on her arm burned like fire. He was hard, his palm warm. She looked up at him, saw the genuine concern in his eyes and wanted nothing more than to crumple into his arms. It would be so easy to give in to the fear and uncertainty that had plagued her since she had witnessed Corey Looney’s death. Ashe was big and strong, his shoulders wide enough to carry any burden. Even hers. She wanted to cry out to him “Take care of me,” but she couldn’t. She had to be strong. For herself. For her mother and Allen.

“Please, don’t mention the phone call to Mother. It will only worry her needlessly.”

“Needlessly?” Ashe grabbed Deborah by the shoulders. “You’re so cool and in control. You’re not the girl I used to know. She would have been crying by now. What changed you so much?”

You did. The words vibrated on the tip of her tongue. They would be so easy to say, so difficult to explain. “I grew up. I took on the responsibilities Daddy left behind when he died so suddenly.”

Ashe ran his hands up and down her arms. She shivered. For one instant he saw the vulnerable, gentle girl he’d once liked, the Deborah who had adored him. “You won’t answer the telephone, at home or at work.”

“All right.”

“And I won’t mention this call to Miss Carol.”

“Thank you.”

He could barely resist the urge to kiss her. She stood there facing him, her defiant little chin tilted, her blue eyes bright, her cheeks delicately flushed. God, but she was beautiful. But then she always had been. Even when he’d fancied himself in love with Whitney, he hadn’t been immune to Deborah’s shy, plump beauty.

“If you ever need to let down your defenses for a few minutes, to stop being strong all the time for your mother and brother, I’ll be around.” He released her, but continued looking directly at her.

She nodded her head, turned and walked away from him.

He didn’t want to care about her. Dammit! All these years he’d never been able to forget her. Or the fact that she had betrayed him to her father. Or that she had been a virgin and he had taken advantage of her. And he could never forget when she’d told him she loved him that night, he had seen a depth of emotion on her face he’d never seen again.

He waited in the entrance hall for a few minutes, wondering how the hell he was going to do his job protecting Deborah from the bad guys, when what she desperately needed was protection from him.