Читать книгу Rescue Me! - Elda Minger - Страница 8

REACTION SET IN AS CODY pulled out of the parking lot.

His hand—his right hand holding his coffee—started to shake. Setting the cup down in the van’s drink holder, he concentrated on driving. If the van lurched along at a slightly slower pace than was normal for this stretch of road, that was all right. The sun wasn’t very high in the sky and there wasn’t much traffic.

Two black-and-white police cars whizzed by, lights flashing, sirens screaming, racing toward the convenience store. Cody watched their progression in his rearview mirror, then turned his attention back to the desert road.

He couldn’t have stayed. The press would have had a field day. He could see the headline in the tabloids now: Washed Up Action Hero Makes a Real Rescue. Or worse. No, he wanted no part of it. He’d seen firsthand how the media destroyed people’s lives.

Hell, he’d been one of their supreme achievements.

He drove until he reached a shopping center, complete with grocery store, drugstore, dry cleaner, pet shop, a bagel shop, a health-food store and a Mexican restaurant. Feeling as if he were operating the van in slow motion, he guided it into the parking lot, where he chose a parking space on the far side of the stores. Turning off the ignition, he sat in the driver’s seat, staring ahead, seeing nothing.

Talk about a wake-up call. Today had been nothing short of a sharp smack to the side of his head.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, but finally he shook his head and reached for the bag of jelly doughnuts. He ate first one, then the other, then drank some of the strong, warm coffee. Just the ordinary feel of eating something, just the everyday smell of coffee, the taste of powdered sugar and raspberry jelly, was enough for him right now.

It comforted him.

Cody closed his eyes, then opened them quickly as he saw brief flashes of the robbery in his mind. Better to see what was actually out there. He focused his gaze on a cactus on the side of the parking lot and took a few deep breaths.

He’d been scared to death going into that store. But all he’d known was that he couldn’t let those two people inside die. Both of them so young and filled with promise. Both thinking they had all the time in the world when he knew that wasn’t true at all.

Older and wearier—but not necessarily wiser—he knew better than to take an optimistic attitude to life.

He checked his watch. He didn’t have to report to the set until noon, so he could afford to take a short nap. Even though he knew he probably wouldn’t sleep, he needed to breathe, to feel, to close his eyes and center himself. He could still feel the adrenaline buzzing through his bloodstream.

Thankful that the van only possessed its two front seats, while the rest of the vehicle was used for hauling equipment around, Cody got out of his seat and maneuvered himself into the back of the van. Someone had left an old sleeping bag there, and he unzipped it and spread it out, knowing it would offer his back some cushioning against the metal floor of the van. He stretched out on top of the thick material.

And thought about the blond woman. He wondered how she was feeling, where she’d been going, what was going to happen to her now. He wondered what would have happened if there had been no robbery this morning and if he’d been able to talk to her while she’d made her purchases.

Something about her had pulled at him. A flare of attraction. But something else.

He sighed. Stretched. Closed his eyes. Tried not to replay the robbery in his mind. Thought of his father’s ranch in Texas, the way it had been. The creek. Quarter horses grazing. The wind singing through the trees, the green tops and silvery undersides of the leaves making that subtle contrast in the sun. The smell of the earth. The feel of that sun on his shoulders.

It worked. Slowly but surely it worked. Despite the odds, he found a measure of peace.

JEN DIDN’T FEEL ANYTHING until she saw the young cashier’s mother enter the convenience store. An attractive brunette in her late thirties, she strode right over to her son, enfolding him in her arms.

“Oh, Johnny, are you all right?” Jen heard as the concerned female voice floated out from behind the counter. And as she watched mother and son, her eyes filled.

Her own mother had died when she was seven. Cancer had taken her quickly. Her father had provided Jen with every material comfort, except for the things she had really craved—love, understanding, acceptance and his time. Now, in this convenience store, if her father had come to help her, the first words out of his aristocratic mouth would have been blame. He was a master at assigning blame and instilling guilt. Something along the lines of What did you do?

She wondered if the clerk—Johnny—knew how very lucky he was.

She answered all the questions put to her by the police officers as best as she could. Concerned for Johnny, Jen sensed he felt the robbery was somehow his fault, or at least he didn’t believe he’d handled it as well as he could have. Needing to reassure him, perhaps as much for herself as for him, she approached the back of the store, where mother and son were now sitting.

Johnny had told the officers his full name was John McGann. Jen directed her attention to the young man’s mother. She didn’t think Johnny was in any shape to hear what she wanted to say.

“Mrs. McGann?” she said.

The clerk’s mother glanced up, her skin pale, her hazel eyes worried.

“I just wanted you to know your son was very brave. When—when we were behind the counter and we couldn’t see what was going on, he used his body to protect me. He would have—” She didn’t have to go on. All three of them knew what would have happened.

“Who was this man?” Mrs. McGann whispered, obviously referring to the stranger who had subdued the robber. “Why didn’t he stay?”

“I don’t know. But—but I thanked him. I—”

I don’t even know your name or how to thank you or—

Actually she hadn’t. She’d tried to, but she hadn’t.

“Well, he was an angel, protecting the two of you,” the older woman said. She eyed Jen. “Are you all right, hon? Would you like to come back home with us and have a cup of coffee or something? Maybe talk about it a little?”

When Jen didn’t answer, she said, “Do your folks live nearby? Is there anyone I can call to come and be with you?”

Another employee had arrived, ready to take over, as Johnny was clearly being given the rest of the day off. Jen hesitated. There had always been that part of her that had yearned for a mother, and Mrs. McGann was obviously a very good one, offering nurturing and support to her during the aftermath of this crisis. But Jen had a sudden intuition that if she didn’t get back on the road immediately, she might lose her nerve altogether and hightail it back to Chicago and the life her father wanted for her.

“That’s very kind, but I have to be in Phoenix later this morning.” Which was a lie. She had no one waiting for her in Phoenix. No one at all.

“I understand,” Mrs. McGann said, but Jen had the feeling she saw much more than she commented on. Funny how most mothers had that funny little sixth sense that clued them in to what was really going on. “But if you need to talk or anything, here’s my number. I’ll give you both home and work. And my cell. You can call me anytime. Anytime at all.” She scribbled the phone numbers on a piece of paper and handed it to her.

“Thank you, Mrs. McGann.”

“Laura. Call me Laura. And thank you for staying with Johnny until the police arrived. Until I arrived.”

“Of course.”

After making sure the police didn’t want her to remain for any more questioning and taking their card and giving them her cell number, Jen poured herself a large cup of coffee. She laced it with plenty of milk and sugar, took two of the glazed doughnuts, paid for her purchases over Johnny’s protests and walked outside to her Mustang.

The sage-scented desert air stung her nostrils as she breathed in deeply, and for one long moment she thought she was going to cry. There had been that moment, inside the store and on the floor, when she’d thought she’d never take another breath, and it felt so wonderful to still be alive. The sky, the air, the coffee—everything felt unbearably new, almost shimmering with life.

I’ll never take it for granted again.

Though little more than an hour had passed since she’d first entered the convenience store, Jen felt as if she were entering another lifetime. Though she was profoundly grateful to be alive, something crucial had been lost.

She’d realized how easy and inconsequential it was for some people to take a life, and that dark knowledge made her exhausted to her bones, to the depths of her soul.

And afraid.

As she unlocked her car, she thought of the man who had come to their rescue. He’d been tall and strong, and those blue eyes had been so intense when he’d silently ordered her behind the counter. And she’d obeyed, recognizing his strength and responding to it.

He’d been a hero in the true sense of the word. He’d acted in a heroic way with no thought for his own safety. He hadn’t had to come into the convenience store; he could have driven on or even considered himself a Good Samaritan by calling the police on his cell.

But he’d been a hero—her hero. And she couldn’t stop thinking about him; her memories of this man were so incredibly vivid. She felt as if they’d been etched on her soul, she’d been so touched by his selfless actions.

Jen knew she was being unreasonable, thinking of this man, spinning thoughts about him, wondering if…Most likely he had a family, a wife and a couple of children. She wondered if they all knew how lucky they were to have a man like that in their lives to protect them.

For an instant, as she slid into the driver’s seat and put her coffee and doughnuts down, she wished he was with her. She had a feeling if she could just lean on him for a few minutes, feel his arms around her, she wouldn’t feel so afraid.

But that was impossible.

CODY KNEW HE HAD TO LEAVE the parking lot, but he couldn’t seem to get his body in gear.

He was worn out. Perhaps weary was a better word. Soul sick, as his father would have said. He hadn’t had a whole lot of energy when he’d started out this morning, and the robbery had finished him off.

But he knew he had to get to work, so he set himself a limit of ten more minutes. Then he opened the van’s sliding side door and sat on the van’s floor, facing outside with his booted feet on the cement. He took in deep breaths of the cool, morning desert air. It felt fresh and open. Vast and timeless.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt glad to be alive.

JEN PULLED OUT OF THE PARKING lot, tried to take a sip of her coffee and found that she couldn’t. Her hands were shaking that badly.

Setting the takeout cup in the Mustang’s drink holder, she concentrated on driving through the small town, passing the first shopping center, driving by businesses and smaller, outlying houses surrounded by cacti and rock gardens. Trying to keep her attention on the road when her eyes were rapidly filling with frightened tears.

Aftershock. The shock was wearing off and she was starting to feel. And she didn’t want to. At least not while she was driving.

She was in no shape to be on the road.

The motel she finally spotted was on the far side of town, a small, pale pink stucco affair with a tiled roof. The neon sign, complete with a cactus, was turned off. But all Jen cared about was the black-and-white Vacancy sign prominently displayed.

She pulled into the parking lot, went into the main office and got a room, then drove a few more spaces down so she was parked in front of door number seventeen. Taking her coffee, the doughnuts and her overnight bag, she locked her car, then unlocked the motel room’s door and let herself in.

It was no resort, but the small room was pleasant. The queen-size bed had a clean, colorful green-and-cream-striped spread, and the room smelled fresh.

Locking the front door behind her, she dragged a ladder-back chair from the small table in front of the window and wedged it beneath the doorknob.

She knew this wasn’t normal behavior on her part, but she found herself suddenly scared, wanting to make the room secure, not wanting to be caught off guard. And she also knew exactly where those fears were coming from and that they were very normal after what she’d just experienced.

Jen sat on the bed. She forced herself to sip her warm coffee, then take bites of the doughnuts, chew and swallow. Automatically. Again and again, even though she didn’t really taste anything. She knew she had to go through these simple motions of living until she felt better again. Or at least until she got her blood sugar up.

The only thing she could compare the robbery to was a car accident she’d been in when she was sixteen. Her girlfriend had been driving when the car in front of them had gone completely out of control, smashing into the cement center divider. They’d plowed into the back of the runaway car. It had been over six months before she’d felt at ease in a car, either driving or as a passenger.

Now Jen knew it would take a while before she felt safe out in the world.

She stopped eating when the doughnuts and coffee threatened to come right back up, then walked into the motel bathroom. After a brief inspection of the small, utilitarian facilities, she turned on the shower, stripped off her clothing and reached for the wrapped bar of guest soap. It smelled of lemon.

If she closed her eyes, she could see the robber’s expression, the way he’d looked at her as she’d slowly taken off her pink sweater.

More than anything, more than even wanting to feel safe again, she wanted to feel clean.

CODY KNEW HE’D BE LATE TO THE set if he didn’t get it in gear. But his thoughts kept returning to the woman in the pink sweater. He wondered if she’d gotten to where she was going, if she had family waiting for her, a boyfriend or parents nearby. He wondered how she’d felt while being questioned by the police. He wondered if when she closed those extraordinary blue-gray eyes she saw the same images he did.

Forcing himself to finish the last of the lukewarm black coffee, he stretched, took a few deep breaths, then got into the van’s driver’s seat and turned on the ignition.

He drove through the desert town, intent on making good time until he passed a small, pink stucco motel and glimpsed that familiar candy-apple-red Mustang parked out front.

There couldn’t be two cars with that particular paint job in a town this size.

Before he had time to question his judgement, he turned left, across the two-lane highway, into the motel’s parking lot, and eased the battered van to a stop beside the sports car.

He stared at the motel room door. Door number seventeen. And as he studied that door, he knew that the woman with the gold bracelet was probably having as bad a time as he was. Worse, because she didn’t look like the type to have been around guns for most of her life. Or lunatics.

Again he thought of the image she projected and the fact that she was traveling alone on the road. It just didn’t fit. Women like her were cosseted and protected by their families, by their money. Not let loose on the road.

He thought of that red car and all the belongings piled in the backseat. Was she running away from someone? Did she need help? Whatever her life circumstances, having been caught in the middle of a robbery couldn’t have helped things.

He sat in his van, staring at the motel door, knowing he was only postponing the inevitable. Something had pulled him toward this woman from the instant he’d seen her. Then they’d been thrown together and shared a pretty horrific experience. Now something was telling him to knock on that door and make sure she was all right.

He’d see how she was doing. Make sure she called family, or at least had someone in her life who knew what had happened and could help her. Then he’d leave. But he had to see her, make sure she was all right. He had a feeling she was hurting and needed help.

He glanced away from the closed motel door, toward the red Mustang. Something about the woman made him want to protect her. Make life easier for her. He wanted to know who she was and where she was going. He wanted to talk to her. He couldn’t let it alone.

Hell, he wanted to know her name.

Knowing he would do nothing to hurt her, acting on deep instinct, Cody opened the van door and got out. He slammed the door shut and locked it. Then he walked over to the motel room door and rapped on it sharply three times.