Читать книгу A Man Like Him - Rachel Brimble - Страница 15

CHAPTER FIVE

THE SMELL OF bacon and fresh coffee drifted under the bedroom door. Tired and hungry, Chris inhaled. He’d been awake for over an hour, unable to drag his aching body from the comfort of his sister’s spare bed. If he didn’t move soon, he’d seize up completely. He’d worked every damn muscle yesterday.

Pain shot across his shoulder blades and Chris grimaced. He clearly wasn’t in as good of shape as he liked to think. Then again, swimming back and forth, hauling food and drink and helping hundreds of people into a hovering helicopter wasn’t your run-of-the-mill workout. With a curse, he heaved upright. His legs muscles screamed in protest as he swung them out of bed. He planted his feet on the hardwood floor. Damn, even his toes hurt.

He stared at his jeans hung on the back of a chair in the corner. His T-shirt had been washed and ironed and was now folded atop the chest of drawers, his boxers and socks beside it. Had Cat crept in his room in the night and put them there? He stared down at his naked body. God, the woman didn’t care. Get Things Done. That was his sister’s motto. To hell with the consequences...or whether someone was naked or dressed.

Trouble was, the consequences always turned out to be what was needed at the time and her instincts were spot-on. Unlike his. Everything he touched got messed up.

Standing, Chris ignored the crick and pop of his tired bones and hobbled toward his clothes. He’d managed to navigate his legs into his boxers and cover his manhood just as the bedroom door flung open on its hinges.

“Jesus, Cat.” He scowled. “Can’t a man have some privacy?”

She waved a newspaper in front of his face, clearly not bothered by his state of semidress.

“Look at this.” She held the paper out in front of her and wiggled her eyebrows. A smile curved her lips. “And explain.”

“What?” Shooting her a glare, he snatched the paper from her fingers.

He stared at the double-page spread reporting the flood. Or should he say the double-page spread of him and Angela, seemingly side by side for the entire duration of the ordeal. His stomach tightened. This was what she’d been talking about. This was the anticipated situation that filled her chocolate-brown eyes with tears and turned her olive skin gray.

“Well?” Cat’s voice cut through his reverie. He met her expectant gaze and inwardly groaned. His sister’s eyes were lit up like they had damn fairy lights behind them, and her grin was as wide as her face.

He shoved the paper at her. “It’s nothing like that.”

She laughed. “Nothing like what? Look at your face. Woo-hoo. You like this woman big-time.”

Spinning away from her, Chris headed into the bathroom. “I don’t like her. I don’t even know her.”

He slammed the door and tried to concentrate on emptying his bladder. It wasn’t easy when his little sister hammered on the door before he’d even got going.

“Cat, for God’s sake.”

“She’s gorgeous. Even with her hair all messed up and her face streaked in mud, she looks beautiful. Puts my tomboy ass to shame.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Chris tipped his head back. How could he argue how beautiful Angela was? She was gorgeous. More than gorgeous. She was intelligent, savvy, caring...and scared.

A moment’s silence and then Cat’s voice drifted under the door as she read aloud. “Listen to this, ‘Angela Taylor, the Good Time Holiday Park manager, was the last female to leave the roof and taken by helicopter to safety. Survivors talk of her bravery and care during this horrendous time.’

“‘Together, with her comrade-in-arms, lone holidaymaker and swimming teacher Chris Forrester—pictured here comforting Miss Taylor—have been referred to as the dynamite team by many survivors we interviewed.’ Wow! Dynamite team, huh? Certainly some sparks between you, looking at this picture. Jeez, just kiss the damn woman, would you?”

Snapping his eyes open, Chris flushed and turned the faucet on full blast as he washed his hands. Cat banged on the door again, but he ignored it. He needed some time to figure out what he was going to say to her. How he’d explain the dumb-assed look on his face captured for eternity on camera. He looked like a bloody idiot staring into Angela’s eyes when chaos reigned supreme all around them.

When chaos reigned inside her.

Angela’s face and voice when she told him about her ex-husband had been too real to ignore. Too raw to be exaggerated. Chris gripped the edge of the sink. He wanted to run again. Get the hell out of Dodge before this woman’s problems seeped any deeper into his mind and morals. Shame coursed through his veins and panic sped the beat of his heart.

How could he not get involved? She’d told him something profound about her life and then turned away. Her face and the timbre of her voice still haunted him. He hadn’t wanted to push her. His perpetual fear of involvement and getting it wrong swelled up like the river that flooded the park. So he’d taken the easy way out and walked away.

Turning off the faucet, frustration swarmed into his blood, hot and unwelcome. “Goddamn it.”

Slapping the edge of the sink, Chris turned and marched to the bathroom door. He yanked it open. “Can we talk about something else, please?”

Cat stumbled backward, the paper still in her hand. “Hey, I’m joking. What’s the matter with you?” Her frown was deep, the teasing lilt in her voice gone.

With his back to her, he stalked to the chest of drawers and pulled on his clothes. “Nothing. Like you read, she’s the park manager. I’m a swimmer. I helped her as and when I could. No big deal.”

Silence.

Inwardly cursing, Chris snatched up his belt and threaded it through the loops of his jeans. His hands shook. “Stop looking at me as though I’m some bloody perpetrator, Cat.”

“How do you know how I’m looking at you if you’ve got your back to me?”

He spun around. “Because I know you, that’s why.” He met her eyes. They were narrowed and suspect, her jaw set. “And I was right. Stop looking at me like some bloody perp.” He brushed past her and sat on the bed. “There’s nothing else to talk about. The situation is nothing to do with me anymore. I’ve moved on. Even you’ll back off and let your brother come to terms with the fact he survived a disaster, won’t you?”

She flung the paper on the bed and fisted her hands on her hips. “I was teasing you. Having five minutes of fun. But your reaction tells me there’s a lot more to that photo than my big brother going all googly eyed over a beautiful woman.”

Chris’s hands turned clammy. If he told Cat about this, about Angela, it made it real and it meant he’d heard every damn word Angela said and hadn’t done a thing about it. He came to the Cove to get his head straight, to feel sorry for himself about Melinda for a while and decide what the hell to do next.

“Chris?”

He looked up. “What?”

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Talk to me.”

“Goddamn it, Cat. There’s nothing to talk about.”

He pushed off the bed and walked to the dresser. He snatched up a comb and strode back into the bathroom, slamming the door and praying Cat took the hint and gave him some space.

He’d run headlong into more responsibility and now he had a choice to make. There was a time he would’ve run and not looked back. That changed when Cat made him realize the error of his ways and demanded he take care of their mother while she investigated her friend’s murder. Chris tossed the comb into the sink and turned away from the mirror.

Two years ago marriage would’ve been something Chris could never contemplate. But when he’d seen his mother destroying her life through drink and sadness, it had flicked a switch, leaving him yearning for more. It had been that yearning that Melinda said scared her.

“You’ve changed, Chris. You’ve gone from the good-time boy to the serious family man. It’s boring.”

Anger yanked at his chest. Well, watching from the sidelines while his family deteriorated had done that to him. Made him think twice about what was important and what wasn’t. Family. Love. Loyalty. All the things his sister had known and kept sacred for years. He might have been slow to get it, but he did now. He frowned. Boring was who he was and would continue to be, with or without Melinda.

He blew out a defeated breath and walked to the door. Cat would find out about Angela one way or the other. He wouldn’t put it past her to be standing outside the bathroom with her gun pointed at him. He pulled open the door.

No gun...but her legs were planted apart and arms crossed. Her stormy green eyes bored into his. “Well?”

He raised his hands in defeat. “She’s in trouble.”

Her frown deepened. “Who? Angela Taylor?”

He nodded and brushed past her to sit down on the bed. He propped his arms behind him. “In the picture where she has her face in my chest? She’s hiding. She’s not hugging me like you seem to think, though God only knows why you’d think we’d be making out in the middle of a disaster zone.”

Cat lowered herself onto the bed beside him, her gaze full of concern as she put her hand on his thigh. “I’m sorry. You do know I was scared out of my mind the entire time you were up there, right?”

He nodded and forced a smile. “Course.”

A few moments passed. “Who’s she hiding from?”

Chris closed his eyes. Her sister was like a dog with a bone once she set her mind to something she didn’t like the sound of. He sighed. “Her ex-husband.”

“I see.”

He opened his eyes and waited.

Cat stared, her green eyes dark and her jaw tight. “She’s scared of a man. Just like Sarah was before I could do a damn thing to help her.”

Shit. He reached for her hand and squeezed. “Hey, this isn’t like Sarah. Sarah was in a lot of trouble through her own choices. You did everything you could to help her as soon as you knew she was in trouble. Sarah was wrapped up in the first stages of love that blinds us all.”

Cat looked at their joined hands. “Maybe.”

Regret for Cat’s best friend furled like barbed wire in his stomach. “Cat?”

“Uh-huh?”

“What are you thinking?”

She met his gaze. Determination burned like fire in her eyes. “That now I know I’ve got a scared woman running from her husband in my jurisdiction, I can’t ignore it. Neither should you. Sarah ended up murdered, Chris. I won’t stand by and let that happen to someone else.”

His stomach twisted. Sarah had called for Cat’s and Jay’s help far too late. Sarah was already in too deep when she reached out, but Cat still hadn’t forgiven herself for not saving her friend’s life. Although there wasn’t a thing she could’ve done differently.

Chris released her hand and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close. He kissed her hair. “You have so much to be proud of. Remember that.”

Her exhalation shuddered through her. “It’s only been a little over a year since Sarah died. Everything’s still so raw and now I know Angela Taylor’s in trouble...”

Chris steeled himself. There was no possible chance he could avoid involvement now. Cat would make sure he didn’t. It’s what she did. It was why she was such a fantastic cop and why the whole of Templeton trusted her.

He closed his eyes. “She said if he saw her picture, he’d find her...and kill her.”

She pulled away from him and stared deep into his eyes, a dart of concentration spearing between her brows. “Did she say where he was? Where he lived? A name?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. I literally felt the door slam shut. I couldn’t have pushed her even if I wanted.”

“You didn’t want to?” Annoyance flashed in her eyes.

Shame stung hot at his cheeks. “You know why I’m here. I don’t want to get involved with another woman. Not yet.”

“And helping a woman in trouble means getting involved with her? That’s just lame, and you know it. You’re involved whether you like it or not. You’ve got to help me help her, Chris.”

Irritation mixed with his shame and he glared. “I’m not a cop. You can’t put that on me.”

“So, you’re not going to help me? Is that what you’re saying?” She pushed to her feet.

His chest grew tight. He’d mess up. He always messed up. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Jesus, Chris. Did that flood do nothing to wake you? Nothing to make you realize life isn’t a game you can just meander through and if the going gets tough, turn your back on it? God, you’re unbelievable.”

Irritation caught like a flint to a flame, turning it to anger. “Hey, you know my track record. If I get involved, I’ll have to do things my way, not yours. Is that what you want?”

Their eyes locked and Chris stood. He mirrored her defensive stance. Legs planted apart, hands on hips. Brother and sister. Siblings. Children of an alcoholic mother and dead father.

He closed his eyes against the frustration in hers. “I’m trying to get my head straight. What help can I be to her when I’m in this state of mind?”

“We’re both messed up by things out of our control, but you don’t see me walking away. First Dad then Mum...and now, by the looks of it, you’re going to pretend this isn’t happening, either.”

“That’s not fair.” Chris clenched his jaw.

“This woman told you about something she most likely wouldn’t have if the entire world hadn’t gone crazy in a matter of hours. You owe it to her to listen.”

“She doesn’t want my help.” If Angela’s eyes had told him differently than her words, maybe he’d be pounding the streets looking for her, but they hadn’t. Stay away. Leave me alone.

He shook his head. “You didn’t see the way she looked at me when she realized what she’d said. It was like the whole world fell out from under her. If I get involved, who’s to say I won’t make things worse?”

Her gaze darted over his face, her mouth set in a grim line as though she was keeping any words firmly trapped inside.

The silence stretched until Chris couldn’t stand it any longer. “Look. I made things worse for Mum when Dad died, didn’t I?”

“No. You went off the rails when he died, but you didn’t make it worse.”

“Yes, Cat. I did. I made things worse for Mum by not letting her know where I was. If I was dead or alive. I won’t risk ruining what Angela’s already done to protect herself. She’s strong. Her strength comes off her in waves. Believe me...she doesn’t need my hardheaded ass on her back today, tomorrow or ever.”

For a long moment, she said nothing and then shrugged. “Maybe not. But she’s going to have mine, so it might as well be both of us.”

“Cat—”

She shook her head. “No. She’s in trouble and she needs help. I’m worried what will happen if she won’t talk to me. You were together in a disaster situation. That connects you. I’m not going to have another dead woman on my conscience. What if you’re the only one she’ll talk to? What then?”

Chris closed his eyes and tipped his head back. “Cat. Come on.”

“Just because she said she didn’t want your help doesn’t mean she meant it.” She gripped his forearm. “God knows, I said the same thing when you were exactly what I needed.”

“Cat...” He opened his eyes and she brushed past him.

She snatched the paper from the bed and held it up. “The man in this picture is somebody who cares, somebody who put his arms around a woman when three days ago he vowed to not come within thirty feet of another female for as long as he lived. You’re in it. Whether you like it or not.”

Seeing the tears in his sister’s eyes, Chris came forward and wrapped his arms around her. “Don’t cry.”

She relaxed into him and sighed. “I’ll run a check on her. Find out who she was married to.”

His shoulders slumped. She was right. He couldn’t ignore this any more than she could. “Fine.”

She pulled back and a wide smile curved her lips. “Great. Then I’ll see you later.”

Without as much as a backward glance, she marched from the room.

Chris opened his mouth to shout after her. He wanted to follow her down the stairs and explain the look in Angela’s eyes. The one pleading with him not to tell another soul about her ex, to let her run and hide if that’s what she wanted. Hell, if there was nothing else he understood, he understood that.

Now Cat knew there was a strong woman out there, a woman who undoubtedly saved a lot of lives, yet was fearful for her own. She wouldn’t let this lie. She’d get to the bottom of it even if it killed her.

Chris covered his face with his hands. Nothing but protection roared in his ears and thundered in his chest. The connection between him and Angela was instantaneous and so was his resistance. What Angela didn’t realize was if he got involved, he’d want to do things his way. And his way of dealing with things was rarely appreciated at the time by the people he was trying to help.

He wouldn’t regret his adolescence of moving from one city to another, one job to another. He’d been happy leading a solitary life. Maybe his mum and dad had wanted different things for him—like the police force—but it hadn’t been him then, and it wasn’t now. He was a free spirit, impulsive, a decision maker who’d run from his family. Run from the responsibility that hummed through the Forrester household until he couldn’t breathe. Cat thrived on it.

Responsibility was his sister’s middle name. His, once upon a time, had been “freedom.” Until he was forced to come home and face what he’d left behind. Maybe Cat hadn’t appreciated his insistence of putting their mum in rehab after years of her care, compared to his pathetic three weeks, but he’d had to say what he felt regardless. Rare tears burned his eyes and Chris blinked. Never again. He wouldn’t turn his back when he was needed again.

Marching to the chest of drawers, he stuffed his cell phone in his back pocket and headed downstairs. The first question was how the hell was he supposed to find Angela again? He had a funny feeling when Cat ran a check on her, nothing would come up.