Читать книгу No End in Sight - Dana Mentink - Страница 8

Jackson peeked out the window and Valerie was relieved when he told her the footsteps they’d heard belonged to the police.

“Saw the guy but couldn’t catch him,” Sergeant Blair said as he took her statement while another officer checked for prints and thoroughly photographed her vehicle and the house. Valerie couldn’t wait for them to leave…though the person who was truly setting her already frayed nerves jangling was Jackson.

He was as strong and sure of himself as he’d ever been before his accident, his tall form putting him a good six inches above her five-five. His unruly hair was still cut short, but grown out enough to show its tendency to curl. Gray eyes, bold and confident. The perfect person to have in a crisis. But she did not want him here. Didn’t want him to remind her of what they’d had, or what she’d destroyed.

Yet she could not take her eyes off him.

When the police finally left, the quiet stretched between the two of them until she wanted to scream.

“Are you back on the line?” she finally blurted out. Last she knew he was on light duty, assigned to a desk in the fire station until he was cleared by the doctors and his physical therapist.

He turned sober eyes on her. “Not yet, but I will be soon.”

She nodded, recalling the days, weeks, he’d lain in a hospital bed, face twisted in pain. The feel of his fingers clasping hers, the prayers she’d whispered over and over until he’d turned the corner.

Her joy was still firmly twined with her agony. When she’d learned he would fully recover, she’d come to the decision that she would not, could not, be with him anymore. Not after what had happened to her father.

But even though she’d hurt him, he’d still saved her life. “Thank you,” she said, voice a little too loud in the tiny living room. “For what you did.”

He shrugged. “Who’s after you?”

“I don’t know.”

He pulled out his phone. “I’ll call my uncle Tuney. He’s a detective. Maybe he can help.”

He’d already become too involved. “I’ll handle it myself, Jackson.”

The muscles worked along his jaw. “A guy with a knife almost kills you and you think you can handle it yourself? I guess that shouldn’t be a surprise.”

She hated the bitterness in his tone, but it ignited a flicker of anger inside her.

I’ve been by myself since I was nine. I won’t depend on anyone, Jackson. Especially you.

“The police will help me.” She went to the cage and whispered softly to Kiwi. He fluffed his feathers and put his beak to the bars for a kiss.

“No slam on the cops, but this is a small town with only a few overworked officers.”

“I can handle it.”

“No way,” Jackson said, eyes blazing. “Why can’t you admit that you need me?”

She faced him, cheeks hot. “I’m not your responsibility, Jackson. I don’t belong to you.” The glimmer of grief in his eyes made her breath catch.

“I know,” he said, voice suddenly soft. “I learned that the hard way.”

Her cell rang again. She answered quickly, desperate to escape the emotion shimmering on Jackson’s face.

“He’s coming,” someone whispered into the phone.

She tensed and Jackson edged close as she pushed the button for speaker phone. “Who is this?”

“Tyrone.”

Valerie struggled to focus on the tortured voice of her only relative, Tyrone, her father’s cousin. Jackson’s muscled shoulder was pressed next to hers, his warmth causing her temperature to rise.

“Tyrone? Where are you?”

Tyrone had found her six months before, but it had taken him weeks of dogged determination to convince her to trust him enough to let him into her life. Somewhat into his fiftieth year, Tyrone was gruff and cynical, brilliant and, she suspected, lazy. But to a woman raised in the foster care system, Tyrone had the one quality she could not resist—he was the only relation she had in the whole world, the one person who could add to her sketchy memories of her father, a firefighter, who’d died in the line of duty when she was nine.

After Tyrone had broken her down, she’d come to enjoy spending time with him, and now they met every week to photograph birds, his favorite pastime. At least, they had…until he’d fallen off the radar two weeks ago.

“You have what he wants,” Tyrone whispered.

“What?”

There was a sharp intake of breath. “Can’t talk now. Lock yourself in. I’ll—”

“Tyrone?” Valerie cried into the phone.

There was no answer.

After a long pause, the phone disconnected.