Читать книгу Captivating Witness - Melinda Di Lorenzo - Страница 13

Chapter 3

The familiar scenery whipped by in a blur of green and brown, muted by the twilight.

Though she’d grown up in Whispering Woods, she’d never had a reason to check out the little cache of rental cabins at the edge of town that bordered the wildest part of the mountain. Not up close anyway.

Unlike the large, well-visited lodge that sat in the middle of everything, their destination had the inconvenience of requiring a short drive. Most tourists didn’t want the effort. And any who were seeking something a little out-of-the-way seemed to gravitate toward the mobile home park on the way into town instead. Maybe because the park boasted its own little shop, running water and the convenience of a clubhouse.

The cabins where Max was staying were older and definitely more rustic. They’d once housed the loggers who used to call the town home. But as they approached the woodsy setting, Reggie could see that it was picturesque. Even in the dark, there was no denying the appeal. On one side of the clearing, four small cabins angled toward a fire pit. On the other, two larger wooden homes sat apart, separated from each other by a six-foot-high hedge. Tall evergreens surrounded all of it, providing a gorgeous green canopy overhead.

If she were choosing a vacation spot, it would be this over the lodge or the mobile home park any day.

Max pulled past all six houses and guided his car up a dirt path that could barely be called a road, then parked in front of a seventh cabin that Reggie wouldn’t even have guessed was there. It was the biggest of the bunch—though still a single floor—and clearly intended as a more permanent residence than the others. A wide porch went from one exterior wall to the other, and a welcome sign hung over the door. Potted plants lined the railing, and several rocking chairs and a wooden swing decorated one end of the porch, while the other held a cast-iron table and matching seats. Through the window, Reggie spotted gingham curtains, and up on the roof, she could see a metal chimney.

“Home sweet home-away-from,” the big man announced. “Sit tight and I’ll give you a hand getting out and up to the house.”

She started to protest that she was fine, but again, he was too fast. In less time than it took for her to reach for her seat belt, he was opening her door and holding out a hand.

Bracing herself for another zap of attraction, she took a breath and put her fingers into his. And there it was. A goose-bumps-inducing heat that radiated up her arm as he helped her out of the vehicle. Maybe it was simply the skin on skin, maybe it was something more, but either way, Reggie couldn’t shake off her awareness of his warmth and strength. And as he adjusted their position so that her hand was resting across his waist for support, it increased even more. The sudden physical closeness turned the prickles of attraction into a fierce burn. It made her stumble a bit before they even made it three steps across the ground toward the cabin.

“You okay?” Max asked, pausing while she regained her footing.

She managed a nod. “Yes. Fine.”

“Okay.” He sounded a bit doubtful, but he didn’t argue. “Let’s get you inside.”

He pulled her even closer to carefully lead her up the path to the steps, and she realized she was thoroughly enjoying the nearness.

She wasn’t usually much of a first-meeting-manhandler kinda girl. If anything, she considered herself to be a bit standoffish with men, prone to assessing from afar rather than jumping in haphazardly. Working in the service industry in a tourist town meant plenty of opportunities for brief encounters. And in the peak seasons—summer and winter—there was a smorgasbord of willing guys coming through the town. She’d made that mistake in her past. Just once. But one slip was all Reggie needed to know better. She barely even noticed the line of guys who paraded through town with their skis or overdone dirt bikes anymore. Especially now that she’d rounded the other side of twenty-five. Something short-term and based on fun and fun alone wasn’t what she was after.

Although, judging by the way her body was reacting to Max...there were certain parts of her that hadn’t gotten the message.

And whether or not he was aware, she couldn’t tell.

She inhaled, trying to steady the abruptly staccato beat of her heart as they took the first stair. But the deep breath had the opposite effect that it should’ve. Because along with a hit of cool, woodsy air, she also drew in a breath of tangy, mouthwatering cologne.

She stumbled again. And again Max steadied her. This time, though, his jacket whipped loose and a cell phone clattered from his pocket to land on the wood beneath their feet. For a second, Reggie stared down at it, her heart sliding up from her chest to her throat.

“You said your name was Max,” she whispered.

“Yeah?”

She pointed down. “The screensaver says ‘Brayden’s Phone.’”

“Oh. I can—”

She was off before he could even finish his sentence, one bare foot slapping the ground as she ran. A few steps later and her other shoe slipped off, too. But she didn’t stop to grab it, or even to look. Somehow, finding out she’d been deceived by the man who’d saved her brought to a head the gravity of her current situation. Something in her snapped.

A man had been shot. Not just in her sleepy little town, but behind her own family’s diner. The person who shot the man wasn’t some stranger or criminal. He was a police officer. And maybe he hadn’t seen her. But maybe he had.

And now...

Now she had nowhere to go. She was stuck on the outskirts of town with a man who’d lied about his name. A small, simple thing. The easiest thing to tell the truth about. She’d been too distracted by his eagerness to help. Too naive to think that he might have some ulterior motive.

It was just a name, said a little voice in her head.

She shoved it down.

Just a name, she replied to herself silently. That’s the whole thing. Why lie about such a small thing?

But the why of it all didn’t really matter. Not right then. All that did matter was getting away. Putting some physical space between herself and the big man. Even if that meant being unreasonable. Because clearly being near him clouded her judgment.

Reggie pushed past the tidy cabins. Rocks and pine needles and other, unknown bits of debris cut into the tender soles of her feet. She ignored the little stabs and kept going to the bottom of the driveway. There she paused.

The road or the woods?

The road would take her back to town. But Max—no, Brayden—would know that. If he was following her, he’d be expecting her to try to get home. And going home wasn’t safe anyway. She swallowed, thinking of her dad in his two-bedroom bungalow. Was he safe? Would Chuck come by there, looking for her?

Reggie shoved aside the worry. If the wayward cop did find a reasonable excuse for visiting her childhood home, he’d quickly figure out that Reggie hadn’t been there herself. And he wouldn’t want to make her dad suspicious. Being crooked didn’t make him stupid.

She took a breath and turned toward the forest. At the very least, it would provide a place to hide while she sorted through what to do.

“Reggie!”

The yell—up the driveway and as of yet out of sight—was enough to spur her on. She slammed her feet to the ground once more. In moments, she was pushing her way through the low, thick bits of greenery. She moved as fast as she could with the branches slap-slapping against her ankles and calves. Yard by yard, she put space between herself and the cabins. Brayden’s voice faded. Then it disappeared. And she kept going.

The shrubs gave way to bigger and bigger trees, spaced apart, their wide roots popping from the ground in a meandering, patternless dance. She didn’t let them slow her down.

At last the ground started to slope up, and Reggie knew it would only get more treacherous from there. Her breaths came hard and fast, and her face was covered in sweat. At last she stopped to gulp in some much-needed air and hazarded a look around. She could see the broken path she’d created, and also the way up the mountain. The rest of the area was made of enormous trees and a few crumbling boulders.

Had Brayden figured out yet that she hadn’t headed back into town? She couldn’t be sure. But she was almost certain that even if he had—and even if he was following her now—he was far enough behind that she could at last take a thirty-second breather. And she really needed one.

So she perched on the edge of one of the big rocks and rested her elbows on her knees, wincing at the sight of her feet. They were ragged. Covered in dirt and so torn up that she could pretty much count on an infection.

And that was almost as bad as the fact that it was nearly pitch-black.

Reggie lifted her gaze. The canopy above was so dark that it almost couldn’t be called green. The bits of sky between the covering branches were starless, and there was no moon to speak of, either.

Wondering if she’d put herself in even more danger by running, she closed her eyes and inhaled. Her breathing had slowed, and when a breeze kicked through the air, the dampness of her forehead made her shiver. But the chill brought on by the sound she heard next was far greater. The snap of twigs breaking under heavy feet.

With her heart thundering again, Reggie jumped up. The pain in her feet was immediate. And crippling. A cry escaped her lips, and she fell forward. The rocky ground loomed beneath her face and her eyes closed and her body tensed in anticipation of smacking into it. But before she could land, a strong hand closed on her elbow. It pulled her back, then she slid down to her knees. A second hand joined the first, moving over her shoulders, then under them. Together, they scooped her from the ground. Away from the pain. She knew without checking that it was Brayden. She recognized his touch. His scent, too. And in spite of the way her mind screamed at her that she was running from him, her body wanted to sink into him. Like she had before.

She fought the urge and instead yelled, “Put me down!”

“So you can run off and hurt yourself even more?” For the first time, he sounded a little impatient. “I don’t think so.”

“So you’re just going to do what? Carry me all the way back to the cabin?”

“Pretty obvious that you can’t walk there on your own.”

“You can’t hold me against my will.”

“I don’t want to hold you against your will. And if you wanted to leave the cabin, you could’ve just asked. I would’ve even driven you wherever you thought you needed to go.”

“You lied about your name.”

“It wasn’t quite a lie, and I would’ve explained it if you’d given me a minute.”

“Right.”

His chest heaved with a heavy breath. “Listen. My real name is Brayden Maxwell. Max is a nickname.”

Reggie wished her gut didn’t want so strongly to believe him. It was hard to argue with the instinct to trust. Especially when her nose was filled with his musky scent and his warm body was holding off the increasing chill in the air. It was a heck of a lot easier to justify running away like a crazy person when he wasn’t so close.

“Do you have ID?” she made herself ask.

“I do. Sitting in the center console of my car. Which is back at the house.”

“Not good enough.”

“What do you want me to do here, Reggie?”

“I don’t know,” she said honestly.

He went silent for a minute. “Reach into my pocket and take my keys.”

“What?”

“My keys. You can use them like a weapon. Stab my eye out if I move the wrong way. Or you can use them to take my car. Either way, they might make you feel a little more secure.”

Reggie considered his suggestion. She knew he was probably just placating her. The fact that she was cradled in his arms kind of gave away the fact that he was the more physically powerful of the two of them. And realistically, he probably outweighed her hundred-fifteen-pound frame by a good hundred pounds of his own. He seemed almost oblivious to the added weight. But the idea that he was willing to add some vulnerability to his own side of things just to make her feel better...that was something. Or so she hoped.

“Which pocket?” she asked.

“Inside left.”

She lifted her hand and slid it along his chest. All on their own, her heartbeat sped up and her fingers slowed down. Her palm moved across his thick, more-than-obvious muscles, unintentionally exploring a little more than was necessary. No wonder he didn’t seem bothered by her extra weight. He was built like a truck. Reggie told herself to ignore it and will her hands to just grab the keys. But as she fumbled to find the pocket, it was impossible not to note the sharp breaths he drew in at each bit of contact.

So. Maybe he isn’t as oblivious to your presence as you thought.

The realization warmed her face, and she was glad it was dark enough that he couldn’t see her unexpected blush.

Her hand closed on the key ring then, and she yanked out the little stack of metal. Before she could get them all the way out, though, Brayden sat down on one of the big boulders and settled her in his lap. He adjusted, and then his thick fingers landed on top of hers. He spread apart her knuckles and dragged a key between each one.

“Like this,” he said. “Makeshift brass knuckles.”

Reggie stared down at the homemade weapon in her hand, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. The latter was definitely winning.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

“For what?”

Brayden sounded genuinely puzzled, and when Reggie lifted her eyes, she saw that his expression matched his tone. Those caramel irises of his were fixed on her and narrowed a little in a confused squint. And a laugh won out. A little giggle—maybe a touch hysterical—escaped her lips.

“Are you serious?” she wondered out loud.

“Yes?”

The unsure reply made her laugh a second time. “You saved me from Chuck. You took me back to the diner when I asked you to. And when I realized your name wasn’t Max, I assumed you were lying to me and I ran off like a crazy person. But you’re asking what I’m sorry for?”

A small smile tipped up his lips, but his eyes tightened. “You’re not crazy. You were in a stressful situation. Are in one. I’d rather have skipped the nighttime jog through the woods, but I get why you ran. No need to apologize.”

“I’m still sorry,” she replied.

“Well, then. You’re forgiven.”

“Thanks.”

He stared down at her for several long moments, his face unreadable. What was going through his head? Reggie thought maybe he wanted to add something else. His mouth twitched as though he was holding back. And she had a strange urge to coax whatever it was out of him. To reach up and touch his cheek and tell him he could share whatever he wanted to share, and it would be just fine with her.

Seconds later, she was startled to find her hand had lifted. Her fingers brushed the edge of his jaw, tingling as they followed its strong line. It wasn’t quite smooth, but it wasn’t quite rough, either. Reggie wondered if he’d shaved that morning. Very abruptly, a vision of that filled her head. Brayden in front of the mirror with a straight razor in his hands. Lathered up in shaving cream, and wrapped in a towel.

With an embarrassed gasp, she dropped her fingers. But his palm came out to stop them from falling away completely. He cupped the back of her hand with his own and brought it up to his lips. He placed a swift kiss right in the center.

Heat—searing and nearly shocking—slammed into the skin there. It didn’t bloom out the way his other, inadvertent touches had. Instead, it clung to that one spot. Like a tattoo. Or maybe a brand. She closed her fingers around the feeling, savoring it, even though she couldn’t quite say why she felt the need.

Then Reggie dragged her eyes up to meet Brayden’s. He looked as surprised as she felt. But he didn’t say a word. He just shifted on the boulder, cradled her to his body once more, then stood up and started to walk.