Читать книгу Protector's Honor - Kit Wilkinson - Страница 11

On the lawn of the Birchwood Inn, Tabitha sat under a grand white tent and picked at a barbecue sandwich. She knew she should eat, but each time she considered taking a bite, her stomach gurgled in protest.

Athletes continued to trickle through the finish line. The summer sun gleamed high above. Tabitha gazed over the opposing mountain ridge but had trouble admiring the natural verdure and its famous blue-green haze. Her nerves were shot and her head throbbing. She felt capable of little besides sipping water.

She did watch her rescuer with a curious eye, but that could not be helped. The poor man could hardly move through the tent. As soon as he’d walked away from her, event officials, commercial sponsors, a television crew and even some of the hotel personnel had stopped him. It seemed everyone wanted a piece of Rory Farrell.

Tabitha learned from bits of conversations around her the reason for his popularity. To her personal relief, it had nothing to do with what had happened on the mountain. Apparently, Rory was a native son of Hendersonville, and part of one of its most prominent families.

For a few minutes, she lost sight of him and turned her attention to the other competitors who’d joined her table for lunch. When she next spotted Rory, his eyes were on her. Drawing near, he held homemade oatmeal cookies in one hand and an ice pack and aspirin in the other. He’d cleaned his face and changed his clothes. Tabitha welcomed him with a smile despite her edgy nerves.

“That’s not fair,” she said, pointing at his clean clothes as he emptied the contents of his hands onto the table. “I’d really like to change.”

A few more fans passed, shaking Rory’s hand and patting his back. When they left, he took the seat next to her.

“Sorry about all that. You’d never know I was just home three months ago.” He passed her the cookie then the aspirin and ice pack. “This is for your ankle. I noticed it’s swelling. The paramedics said to ice it thirty minutes, then off thirty minutes and repeat. And drink lots of water. That fixed me right up.”

“I’m trying. And thanks.” Tabitha leaned forward reaching for the aspirin. And despite his chipper speech, she could see that his attitude had changed since their return to the inn. He looked tired and worn down. And he most definitely did not enjoy all the attention he was getting.

“You look better,” he remarked, his smile strained.

“Yes. I’m starting to calm down.” She swallowed the aspirin with a quick gulp of ice water then pushed the glass back to its position on the table. “Rory, I know it’s none of my business but…” She hesitated, not sure if she should mention anything so personal. After all he’d done for her, she felt she had to say something. “Well, I heard about your father. I’m so sorry.”

His eyes connected fast with hers. A little moisture appeared in them as he nodded. “Yep. It was a tough battle with cancer. That’s what all the fuss is about. Everyone loved my pop.” He turned away and looked out over the mountains.

“You must miss him.”

“Terribly. This has been a hard week, coming home again.”

“So, you don’t live here anymore? You live in Arlington?”

“Alexandria.” He looked back with a big grin, pleased at the subtle change in subjects. “Obviously, you heard all sorts of things sitting here.”

“I did.” She returned the smile.

He leaned close and whispered, “Well, just a warning. Things have a way of getting exaggerated around here.”

“Exaggerated? You mean your grandmother doesn’t run Hendersonville? And you’re not the town’s greatest athlete?”

Rory laughed heartily. The wide smile and the deep rich sounds of his voice warmed her. “You know, Gram may actually run the town. At least, she thinks she does. But the other? That’s a new one.”

“Hmm. I also heard that you’re some kind of special cop which confused me since you told me you were a marine.”

“Former marine. Now, I’m a federal agent. I work for NCIS.”

“N-C-I—what?” Apparently, she was supposed to recognize the acronym.

“Naval Criminal Investigative Service. Like the TV show?”

She shrugged and turned her palms up.

“We’re an organization like the FBI but run by the navy. My unit conducts terrorist-related investigations. We also investigate serious crimes committed by or against navy personnel.”

“So I guess what happened today was nothing for you?”

“I don’t know about that. I don’t usually run unarmed in front of a man with a gun pointed at me.”

“Well, I’m glad you did,” she commented.

“Me, too.”

Tabitha locked eyes with him and felt her heart rate increase to some anaerobic rhythm. Oh, dear. Was she blushing? She fumbled for something to say. Anything. “So, if you’re not a marine anymore, why the haircut?”

“Oh.” He chuckled then leaned forward running a hand across the fresh buzz. “I don’t usually—my grandmother likes it like this.”

“Nice.” Tabitha didn’t stop her grin. It wasn’t every day she met a bona fide tough guy willing to shave his head for his grandmother. “So, did the cops find those men on the mountain?”

“No. They’re probably long gone. But the detectives will be here any minute and we can give them good descriptions.”

She pressed away from the table. “In that case, I’m going to change.”

“I don’t think so.” He grabbed her wrist. His eyes shifted toward the colonial-style inn with its multistepped entrance then looked at her bad ankle. “I’ll go. Tell me what to get.”

Tabitha took in a sharp breath, acutely aware of his touch. And it annoyed her that he was right about the ankle. She was in no shape to hop all the way to her room. She exhaled, showing her agitation.

“I’m just trying to help,” Rory explained.

“I know.” She dropped her head, pushed the loose wisps of hair from her face and smiled. “I left the key at the front desk. Will they give it to you?”

“Yep. I know the manager.” He winked.

“You know everyone,” she teased.

“The benefit of growing up in a small town. So, tell me what you need.”

Tabitha sighed and gave into his offer. “Well, on the bed you’ll find my warm-up pants and a pink Nike T-shirt. And if you could, grab my cell phone, too. It’s on the dresser.”

“Pants, shirt, phone. Got it.” Rory’s kind smile flooded her with an unexpected rush. He moved beside her, his eyes fixed on her bad ankle which he lifted and placed on the chair where he’d been sitting. He put the ice pack over the sore joint and gave her hand a little squeeze. “Be right back.”

As he disappeared into the inn, she stared after him wondering what had just happened. Her fingers tingled where he’d touched them and her heart fluttered in an unsteady pattern. She hadn’t had that reaction to a man in years. Had to be her overwrought nerves. Prayer could fix that.

Lord, my head is clouded. Please be with me. The Lord is my rock, in whom I take refuge…

The psalm brought Tabitha some comfort until she noticed two men in suits talking to one of the police officers assigned to the event. The detectives. She drew in a sharp breath as her thoughts went back to the attack.

She shut her eyes and tried to remember the details of the morning. What had the men looked like? What had they said to her? They had wanted something. Something Max had given her? But what could her brother have given her that these men would be willing to kill for?

Rory funneled his way through the hordes of people between the lunch tent and the inn. His mind swirled in a confusion of excitement and concern. Nothing like this had ever happened at a triathlon. Even as a federal agent, he’d only dealt with one case of abduction—enough to know they didn’t always end well.

God, thank You for using me to help Tabitha.

A prayer?

Yep. He’d said a prayer and it had flowed out of him quite naturally.

Was anyone listening?

That he didn’t know anymore. No one had listened when he’d begged for his father’s recovery.

Lifting a hand to his temple, he mounted the narrow set of whitewashed stairs. His headache had returned with the bitter emotions. The happiness he’d experienced helping Tabitha over the past hour slipped away with each step.

He entered the small lobby of the old B and B–style hotel, passing several antique hutches and tables, all loaded with country knickknacks and crockery. Crossing the wide-plank floor, he headed straight to the check-in. The manager, a petite blonde dressed in a simple white linen outfit, gave him a wide smile from behind the front counter.

He returned his cousin’s smile despite his heavy heart. “How are you, Terri?”

“Busy. But glad you came in,” she confessed. “You’ve been mighty scarce this week.”

“Yeah, well, you know…” Rory’s jaw clenched at the truth in her words. Hanging out with family only emphasized the absence of his father. It had been easier to be alone. “So, I guess you heard a racer was injured?”

“I heard you rescued someone.”

“Tabitha Beaumont, one of your guests.”

A look of concern fell over Terri’s face. “Ms. Beaumont? She’s hurt?”

“Sprained ankle. Nothing serious. But that’s only part of the story.” Rory shifted his weight back.

Terri folded her arms across her chest. “Well? What happened?”

“Two men, one armed, attempted to abduct her.”

“What?” The petite woman’s gray eyes grew large and a worried look settled across her face. “I didn’t know. I just heard someone needed a ride back from the trail. Where did this happen?”

“About halfway down. I know the whole mountain belongs to the resort so I wanted to tell you that I’ve called some detectives in. They’ll want to talk to you.”

“Certainly. This is terrible. I can’t believe it. Ms. Beaumont seems so sweet. I had tea with her when she arrived yesterday. I enjoyed chatting with her. Do you think she’s in some kind of trouble? You know, she’s a lawyer in Charlotte.”

“A lawyer? Really?” He’d not even asked. Come to think of it, he hadn’t asked her anything. He’d been talking about himself. How had that happened? “What else did she tell you? Did she seem upset about anything?”

“No. Not that I could tell. A little nervous about the race. She said her older brother’s into triathlons and talked her into trying one.”

“This was her first race?” His eyebrows lifted.

Terri nodded. “That’s what she said. Why?”

He chuckled. “She did well. She’d been moving along for a first timer…” Rory stopped his pointless comment. Where was his focus? “I—I doubt it’s important. Anything else you remember? Was anyone meeting her or assisting her at the bike drop-off or the finish?”

“Now that you mention it, I recall her booking two rooms.” Terri took a moment to pull up some records on her computer. “The other room was registered under the name Bristow. She canceled it a few days ago.”

Bristow. Probably not her brother. Different last name. Boyfriend? Could this person be connected to what had happened? Rory pressed his fingers to the bridge of his aching nose, wishing he’d taken some aspirin for himself. “Did she say why?”

Terri shook her head. “No. Is it important? Is this what the police will ask me?”

“Maybe, but they’ll also want to know about the grounds and security. How you handle the event. Stuff like that.”

“Okay.” Terri rubbed her hands together nervously.

“I’ll go see if they’ve arrived, but first, Ms. Beaumont needs a favor. A few things from her room. Could you let me in since she can’t get up here with her bad ankle?”

She rolled her eyes. “Always ready to help a damsel in distress, huh? Especially if she’s beautiful?”

“Do you really think I’m that shallow?” Rory held his hands in the air, feigning innocence.

“No. But you have other issues.” Terri reached under the desk and pulled out an electronic key card. Then she called another clerk to cover the front. “Come on. I’ll walk you up,” she said to Rory.

Together, they headed up the wooden staircase to the second floor.

“What issues?” he asked. “I don’t have any issues.”

Terri pursed her lips together. “Uh…you haven’t been in a serious relationship in years.”

“I don’t have time to date. That doesn’t mean I have issues.”

“Whatever you say.” Terri was shaking her head. Rory bit back a reply. Why did he care what she thought anyway?

They passed several numbered doors continuing down a somber, narrow hallway with a few sharp turns. Terri stopped abruptly a few feet from an open door. Golden streams of sunlight spilled across the corridor. Speckles of dust hung lifeless in the downward rays. The quiet air seemed eerie, far removed from the cheerful whir of activity outside the inn.

Terri frowned. “I can’t imagine the staff leaving her door wide-open like that.”

Rory moved Terri against the wall. “Stay here.”

He reached under his arm where a holster would have normally held his automatic Glock. It wasn’t there, of course. He shook his head and entered.

The room was small—just enough space for the mission-style bed, a small upholstered chair and a three-drawer dresser. The bed’s white quilt had been thrown to the floor and the rest of the linens peeled from the mattress. A few articles of clothing lay willy-nilly across the floor and dresser. He found no cell phone, no purse, no suitcase. He moved over the hardwood floors and opened the door to the bath. There were no toiletries, not even a toothbrush or bottle of shampoo.

“Clear. Come in, Terri. Are you sure this is Ms. Beaumont’s room?” He examined a rumpled T-shirt that had been tossed recklessly into the corner.

“Oh, my!” Terri’s mouth dropped open as she entered the chaotic room. “Yes. It’s definitely her room. I brought her up myself.”

Rory looked under the bed. Clean and empty. He opened the dresser drawers. Empty. “There’s nothing in here but some dirty clothes.”

“She’s been robbed? Let me call my staff and see if anyone knows what’s happened.”

“No. Wait here. In fact, call someone to stay with you. I’m going to find the detectives and send them up.”

She nodded.

A new wave of anxiety washed over Rory. He didn’t need to be a cop to guess that the burgled room and the attack were connected. Maybe the men after Tabitha didn’t want her, but something she had? Maybe they wanted both?

At that, Rory flew down the stairs. He hoped leaving Tabitha alone hadn’t been a huge mistake.