Читать книгу A Marked Man - Stella Cameron - Страница 10

Annie would know those shoulders and that back anywhere. Looking at Max Savage from any direction was more than a pleasure, except when she didn’t want to talk to anyone, even him.

The doors to Pappy’s swung shut behind her. Annie hovered, the hood of her jacket pulled well down against the rain, and considered backtracking. She still had a chance to get inside without being seen.

With a cell phone clamped to his ear, Max turned and saw her. He must see her. That or he was looking right through her with an expression on his face that turned him into a stranger. Intense agitation—and anger—distorted his features. Annie breathed great gulps of air through her mouth. She half raised her hand to wave, but let it fall again. The intense, blue-eyed man who caught the attention of many women and left them trying to decide if they had seen him on the cover of GQ, had stepped out in a frightening disguise today. With a vague smile about her lips, Annie walked on and made to pass him.

Fortunately, since he was on the phone she didn’t need to speak. And she wasn’t sure she could.

Before she managed to escape toward the parking lot, Max caught her by the arm and smiled, with his mouth, not with his eyes. Some emotion made his eyes darker. He averted the phone mouthpiece and said, “Please give me a moment, Annie.” The downpour had turned the shoulders of his denim jacket dark. Rain plastered his black hair to his head and ran down his face.

She nodded, but would rather leave without the inevitable questions about why she looked exhausted. When Father Cyrus drove her home early that morning, Joe and Ellie Gable had greeted her, Ellie with Annie’s cat, Irene, clutched in her arms. Irene was queen in Annie’s flat and never stepped outside. But the Gables had been awakened by the cat yowling at their back door.

With an easy excuse that Irene must have slipped, unseen, out of the building when she left, Annie had lied to her friends. But no matter what else was on her mind, she never neglected Irene who had been asleep on the tumbled bed when Annie left.

Someone had got in and let her cat out.

No, this time she had been so agitated that she left a door ajar somewhere. That’s probably what happened.

Twice since the episode at St. Cécil’s she had dozed, only to be jolted by visions from the nightmare. Cyrus had spent a long time with her that morning and inevitably, spurred on by the trust he fostered just by being himself, she had told him what was happening to her.

Cyrus, who had probably never turned anyone away, promised her he would be there for her and that they’d get together again to see how she was doing.

For the first time, the scenes had continued for seconds when she was completely awake. She turned her head from Max and closed her eyes. What did it mean? What was happening to her?

Max’s grip tightened on her arm. “Spike, I don’t think anything has happened to her,” he said into his phone. “Yes, of course it’s possible. Sorry. Michele drove into Toussaint yesterday morning. She rented a car at the airport. I drove her back to the Majestic last night—after dinner—but according to Gator and Doll, she didn’t sleep there. Her things are still in the room and the rental car’s parked in the hotel lot.”

The conversation was not her business but she heard every word loud and clear. Michele would be Michele Riley, the woman Max had mentioned hoping to hire for the new clinic.

“Of course I’m worried,” Max said. “Look, I’m gonna have to come in and have a chat, but not today.”

While he listened to Spike his color deepened. “Kelly’s the detail man,” he said. “He dealt with the employment information we need to have on file for her. He knows what’s happened. I’ll have him call you…okay? We’ll get back to you.”

Slowly, Annie turned her eyes toward Max. While he listened to Sheriff Spike Devol, a pale line formed around his mouth. When he spoke again, even his voice sounded different, with no trace of the warmth she expected.

He shoved the phone onto his belt. “I want to get away from here, now. Annie, I could use your company. Or can’t you do that?”

She paused. A quick explanation that she had to get back to work would set her free. Only she would rather be with him. “I can take a little while.” She wouldn’t pry. If he wanted her to know about his problems, he would let her know.

Max moved quickly, his strides long enough to press Annie into a trot. He aimed his key, and the lights on his gray Boxster blinked. He didn’t slow down until he took a moment to see her inside the car and close the door. Within seconds he got behind the wheel, and sat swiping water from his face. He turned on the engine and drove from the lot, too fast for the slick conditions.

Without looking at her, or saying a word, he grabbed his phone again and pressed a button. “Come on, come on. Kelly? Yeah, hi, it’s Max. Just got off the phone with Spike…No, dammit, I told him what I found out from the Hibbses, nothing else. Get Michele’s information. Home address, contract, whatever you’ve got. Take it to Spike at his office.” He stopped talking and his attention seemed to wander. “Spike can find out if she was on her plane back to New York today. I forgot to ask if he’d already done that.”

He looked at her. She got another mouth-only smile and pushed a fist into her stomach. This was panicking her and she’d already been through enough in the past twenty-four hours.

“Did you sleep last night?” he asked, pressing the mouthpiece against his shoulder. He figured he already knew the answer. Annie looked sick. She blinked rapidly as if her eyes stung.

“Of course I slept,” she said, sounding defensive and not like the Annie he was trying to know.

“Is that why your eyes look like black holes and you’re so stressed you’d probably break if someone touched you. What did you do to yourself?” He had noticed before, but never mentioned several small, silvered areas on both sides of her hands. Old, insignificant burn scars. Severe burns, taking away the disfigurement they caused, were part of his life, but Annie’s weren’t even near his league. However, today she did have a new gauze dressing on the left side.

“I’m fine,” she protested. “Never been better. Mornings aren’t my favorites, that’s all.” She didn’t explain the bandage.

Max didn’t believe her. Absently, he heard Kelly’s muffled, angry voice.

Annie didn’t intend to talk about what had happened at the church. She returned Max’s blue stare. “Do you think I’m lyin’?”

The road curved but he took the bends with absent ease.

Annie felt every turn of the wheel, the frequent corrections the car made, and looked doggedly at her lap.

“Have you finished?” Max said into the phone, repeatedly glancing back at Annie. “Oh, yes you have. No, I’m not telling you the details—let Spike tell you. I can’t face it. Not yet. Hell, I don’t know but it’s all too familiar. I’m going for a drive…Because I need to.”

He turned off the phone—all the way off—and headed north. Annie wanted to know where they were going but didn’t ask.

Yellow and brown leaves fell from deciduous trees. Some caught in the windshield wipers and slapped back and forth. The rising fog layer steamed as if the rain falling from misty skies were boiling. Billowing vapor rolled from the road and coiled away between trees on either side. Patchy visibility cleared for brief moments before disappearing into ghostly clouds that took the car in a suffocating embrace.

If she asked him to slow down, or even to wait for the conditions to improve, would he turn his strange hostile voice on her, and allow his face to look as it had outside Pappy’s?

Max leaned forward slightly. His damp knuckles were white, the tendons on the backs of his hands and wrists, distended.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly and glanced at her. He heard himself swallow. “Really sorry, Annie. I don’t know what got into me, bringing you with me like this. I’m not good company.” This was probably the only appealing woman he had known who didn’t feel her own power over a man. Reticence hovered behind her eyes. Yet she was lovely, her shoulder-length hair smooth and fair, her eyes remarkable for their catlike, almost amber color and her mouth soft, full and inviting. And Annie was slim with gentle curves and long legs.

But Annie Duhon, a thoughtful, gentle woman, had a tough side. She ran Pappy’s with an ease he admired and he had witnessed how she used humor to cut through difficult encounters. Max didn’t think he would enjoy being on the wrong end of Annie’s displeasure. He smiled slightly at the thought.

“Me, I kind of like wild days like this,” Annie said, feeling silly but desperate to break the tension. Each time he glanced at her she felt as if he touched her. Her breathing grew shallower, her lungs tight.

“I can tell I’m upsetting you,” he said. “I’ll go back.”

“Don’t,” she said. “You said you needed my company. I’m here for you. If you want to talk, I’m ready to listen.” She had never been able to walk away from someone in need. Sometimes that had been a mistake but it couldn’t be with Max…could it?

“Thanks,” he said and drove on more slowly.

He thumped the steering wheel and Annie jumped. Her hands trembled and she wound them tightly together. If things did get sticky, she would find a way to bail out. She’d learned the hard way about not allowing a man to trap her where she could be overpowered.

Max wasn’t the type to overpower anyone.

She touched his arm. “It’s none of my business, but you’re worried. Is somethin’ wrong with the person you interviewed yesterday? Michele?”

“I don’t know.” He didn’t, and he didn’t want to talk about it—or think about it, for God’s sake.

“Okay.” She wished she hadn’t asked.

“You’re shaking,” he said. “I’ve scared you. Dammit! This isn’t like me. Those bastards are getting what they want, they’re turning me into a madman.”

“Who?” she said automatically.

“Let it go.”

If it might not turn out to be a really bad idea, she would tell him what she thought about being a captive audience for someone in a foul temper.

“Bail,” she said, not meaning to speak aloud. She cleared her throat.

A strong hand settled over both of hers. “There’s no reason for me to bail. I’m going through a rough patch is all. And I’m getting ahead of myself. Do you like bagels?” He continued to hold her hands. “Remember a little restaurant in St. Martinville called Char’s Bagels?”

“No.” She looked around. St. Martinville? The weather, the fog, had disoriented her, if it hadn’t, she’d have asked him to go somewhere other than St. Martinville—anywhere but there. The town where she’d grown up wasn’t so far from Toussaint but she’d left a long time ago and never returned since.

“You’ll love it. Every kind of bagel and every flavor whipped cream cheese you can think of. Smoked salmon. Capers. Paper-thin onions. Great coffee.”

“New York food,” she said faintly.

“People eat bagels all over,” Max said. “Could you go to Char’s with me and eat something now?”

Her life in the town was over. The people she’d known were dead or gone—most of them. Those who remained would never recognize her after so long. Almost everything about her had changed.

She definitely wanted out of this car. “Didn’t you get lunch at Pappy’s?” What did it matter? Once she was out of the car she could take charge of herself. “Well, I’ll come. Why not. I always like pickin’ up fresh ideas.” If she made a big deal out of driving somewhere else, Max could get suspicious.

“I had a good lunch.” He couldn’t read her mood. “But I can’t remember what it was, so I’ll take more time with the bagels.”

This man was in control, always. He had never blabbered about inconsequential things—like bagels. “Lead me to Char’s,” she said.

When he glanced at her again, his eyes were narrowed and she felt him assessing her, her reactions. He suspected she was humoring him. She stared back into his eyes and felt drawn to him, even as she couldn’t put fear completely aside.

In St. Martinville, folks had said she was a bad seed, that she went after the kind of excitement that could ruin her. She had heard whisperings: “Disgustin”’ “Stay away from her and make sure your George does. She’s ruined more than one decent man.” They had no proof because there was none, but they linked her to men she’d never met and she had no defense because she had made two mistakes that turned out badly enough to trash her reputation.

Max drove into St. Martinville. The rain had cleared the streets of people on foot.

“You know your way around this town,” she said and her voice felt unused. Annie kept her face straight ahead and wished she could put her hood up again and hide inside.

“Blink and you’d miss the place,” Max said. “What’s to know? It’s a pretty town, friendly.”

She shrugged. The fog over the road had dissipated as soon as they entered the town, but the rain beat down here just as heavily as it had in Toussaint.

That’s where she should be, in Toussaint, at Pappy’s doing her job. This was out of character for her and it mustn’t happen again. “Where is this Char’s?” She didn’t recall the place.

“Close to St. Martin de Tours Church. And there’s the church now.”

The white, single-story church boasted a bell tower over the front door. A few people formed a line out front to file up steps and into the building. Visitors liked to tour the building, and a wet day was a good time to be inside. When she’d been a little girl, Annie used to creep into the Perpetual Adoration Garden. She liked to sit and stare at the statue of Evangeline, the Acadian heroine. Peace waited there, and although Annie had never told anyone, she had secretly thought Evangeline watched over children—and fairies. She bit her lip. She had been certain fairies flitted about among the flowers because she’d seen them, and since she would never share that secret, no one would argue the point.

A right turn on Hamilton and they traveled a couple of blocks. Annie’s stomach hit her diaphragm. Not much had really changed and she didn’t want to be there. Abruptly, Max turned in at a narrow alley she didn’t recall and made a quick right into a forecourt large enough for half a dozen cars. One open space remained and the Boxster slid in tidily.

A single window on the left side of a boxy little building gave a clouded impression of rapidly moving figures inside. The door, with an oval of glass at its center, stood to the right. Whoever painted “Char’s Bagels” over the window wouldn’t be making a living in signs. Each turquoise letter was of a different size from its partners. And the closer the offender got to the end of the two words, the smaller his or her efforts became. Apparently he had eventually noticed his mistakes and attempted to fill up ragged spaces with yellow-brown pocked circles with holes in the middle. Those would be bagels, Annie decided.

Max switched off his engine but didn’t attempt to get out of the car. He turned her heart, and caused an ache in some places she shouldn’t allow to react at all. An incredibly good-looking man with a square jaw, a dip in the center of his chin and a wide, firm mouth that turned up at the corners, he was tall, with a muscular body—and if he knew how much time she spent fantasizing about him, he would probably laugh, or pity her.

He got out but she couldn’t make herself move. Max opened her door and offered her his hand.

Reluctantly, she joined him. He looked steadily down at her, his black brows drawn together. “What’s wrong? There is something, isn’t there.”

One of the blushes that cursed her life blossomed on Annie’s face. “Nothin’ wrong.”

He eased her away from the door and shut it. Once again they were pounded with rain and he swiped a hand across spiky eyelashes. “Yes, there is. What happened this morning? Why weren’t you at Pappy’s? You don’t miss work.” He’d done everything wrong with her so far today. The clock needed to be turned back. No hope there.

“Whoa, boy,” she said. “I don’t have to explain my actions to you.” Adrenaline started to rush and gave her some strength, together with a whole heap of nervous jumpiness.

Someone needed to get them out of this tight corner and it should be him. “You’re right. This is my fault. I got a bad shock this morning and when I saw you, it was like reaching someone sensible and sane who made me feel…calmer, I guess. I wanted to stay close to you.”

“I guess we both had rotten mornings.” Yet again, she said something she should have kept to herself. “Happens that way sometimes. Irene got out and had to be chased down.” She hated lying and lies were coming too easily lately.

“Your cat? You found it?”

“Her, yes,” she said and looked around the area. She had been down here at some time but the bagel shop had to be relatively new. Petals from magnolia blooms rolled over the forecourt. She could smell their sweet, musky scent.

Two laughing women spilled from a beauty shop on the corner and Annie spun away in case they looked in her direction. She put a hand to her throat and tapped the toes of her damp pumps. If they did see her, they’d only get a view of her back and never guess who she was, not that she recognized them.

If he had made her this edgy, Max thought, then he hated himself. “Come on. We’ll get some hot coffee and warm up a bit. Then I’ll drop you at your place so you can change. I’ll hang and get you back to work.”

He realized she was looking at something behind him and it didn’t make her happy. He resisted the urge to find out what had caught her attention. Annie didn’t seem to want to be here. And he didn’t want to be in Toussaint now, but he had no right to pull her into his problems.

He put a hand on her shoulder and found it rigid. “You coming?”

Her lips parted and her eyes filled with tears. Tears? Hell, what had he done to her? When he looked over his shoulder he saw nothing but a man leaving the shop with a bulging white paper bag.

“Annie?”

If she could close her eyes and be miles away, she would. “No! No, I can’t stay today. You go on in. I know how to get back to Pappy’s on my own.” As soon as she got away from this parking lot she’d call Carmen to come and get her. He didn’t ask questions and he didn’t discuss people’s business.

Max didn’t move.

“Really,” she told him. “I’ll see you back there—maybe tomorrow if you’re in.”

He reached for her right hand, turned it palm up, dropped his car keys there and folded her fingers over them. “Take my car. I’ve got a few things I should do while I’m here. Roche will be along and I’ll go back with him. Just leave the car at Pappy’s.” Meanwhile he’d get his act together and make sure he never made another stupid slip like this one. But then he intended to find out why Annie was nervous in this town. More than nervous, just about paralyzed. “Off you go.”

“No. That’s not necessary,” Annie said. She tried to push the keys at him but he stepped away. He blinked and worked his jaw, said, “Just take the car. I’ve got to go now.” He walked from the lot and turned toward Bayou Teche.

Confused, her skin damp and clammy, Annie watched him move rapidly out of sight. She looked at the keys, then at the Boxster. Of course she couldn’t take his car and leave him here. But the man with the white bag had stopped outside the bagel shop door and she felt him staring at her.

Max wouldn’t have gone so far. She’d go after him now and give back the keys.

Only her feet wouldn’t move. She pulled up her hood and bowed her head, moved close to the car.

It was Bobby Colbert who stood, looking directly at her.

How old was he now? A couple of years older than her, thirty-one maybe? Move. Get out of here.

Annie pivoted from the vehicle. No one would think anything of someone who took off running in this kind of weather.

“Annie? Is that you?”

She froze. He might as well have taken her by the throat and squeezed. Annie didn’t react.

The sound of his footsteps, coming in her direction, horrified her. He’s not bad. He was just a boy back then. We were both kids. And the last time I met him he was trying to help me—he did help me. I would probably have died if he hadn’t showed up. But he saw what that crazy man did to me. Bobby knows all about what I have to hide…No one else could know. She couldn’t bear it if…If Max found out, she would leave Toussaint rather than put up with either his revulsion, or his pity.

“Annie, it’s me, Bobby. I didn’t know you were back.”

She raised her face as he reached her. Not a boy anymore. Slim as he had been, but with the mature development of the man he had become. Sandy hair, curly and well cut. Earnest brown eyes. Even, white teeth. The all-American kid had grown up and his open face only intensified her shock and fear at seeing him.

“I’m not back,” she said and shuddered at the thin, wobbly sound of her voice.

Bobby smiled. “I think about you a lot, cher. How you doin’? How did it all…?” He glanced downward over her body.

Annie unlocked the Boxster, dropped inside and locked the door. Not until she saw him jump away did she register that when she shot backward, she almost hit Bobby Colbert.

He could destroy everything she had worked for.