Читать книгу For the Love of a Fireman - Vonnie Davis - Страница 7

Barclay smirked at the three pieces of pie gracing the table before him at a booth in the nearly deserted diner. He hoped the sweet treats would be enough incentive to draw Molly in for coffee and conversation. By now, he should be home, bathing three dogs reeking with skunk spray. Since none of his canine girls could tell time, surely he could take fifteen or twenty minutes for himself to chit-chat with Molly—and maybe ask her on a date.

He stared out the window at the end of the table, his mind snagged on the sexy-as-hell beauty spot above the corner of her mouth. What he wouldn’t give to touch it with the tip of his tongue just before he captured her lips with his. Especially her desirable, full bottom lip that for some inane reason kept drawing his eye. Adding to her sensual allure was the fact she was a shade plump all over, just the way he liked his women—softness to his hardness. Her ponytail, the color of raven’s wings, made his fingers itch to remove the band holding it in place and run his fingers through those silky-looking tresses. It had been a long time since a woman attracted him like Molly. Even so, desire had to take a backseat to finding answers.

Something was off about her.

For one thing, she seemed jumpy. For another, she exhibited emotional and physical signs of abuse or an attack of some kind. Her neck bore faint traces of bruising as if she’d been choked. Her left bicep, peeking out of a red and white striped top, had yellow marks of a fading contusion.

By his estimation, she’d been beaten. Not spanked like he occasionally preferred during scene play, but a cruel pounding. She wore no ring and didn’t have the tan mark of one recently removed, so he doubted she’d been married. Had she been accosted by some stranger or worked over by someone she knew? Because she definitely wore her fear like a plate of armor. Some bastard had traumatized her.

He added sweetener to his coffee and stirred. Although he’d had the presence of mind to check for a wedding band, the possibility of a live-in or other type of relationship might exist. Yet with the prickly walls she kept throwing up, he sensed a troubled soul. Something about her called to him, which was a rarity since Bella Marie.

Damn him, he’d always been a sucker for a mystery…and a frightened stray. His three canine girls were testament to that particular weakness.

If only Molly’s furtive eyes hadn’t pulled at him so. Barclay rubbed his fingers across his brow. Her blue-violet gaze, wary with distrust and anxiety, seemed ultra-observant as it darted toward the door every time it swept open, as if she were expecting someone to come charging in at any moment. There was no mistaking the mistrust and torment in her eyes.

From time to time, he’d seen tormented eyes resembling hers staring back at him from his own mirror in the dark, soul-searching hours of night. No doubt, she was in an emotionally persecuted place. Damn, if he didn’t know the look, himself.

Molly needed help.

Not his, of course. He had enough damn problems of his own. Still, something about her worried him. She was an attractive and spirited puzzle that had surprisingly captured his curiosity. Thus the invitation for coffee and pie, which she’d shot down without a minute’s hesitation. He snorted and shook his head. His typical flirtatious charm hadn’t gotten him anywhere with the cashier, that was for sure. Which was a damn shame since just about everything about her attracted him.

He blew across the top of his mug before he sipped. Maybe he was losing his touch. Fighting fires and pulling dead bodies from buildings and the Gulf of Mexico were definitely taking their toll. That’s why he’d decided to use three weeks of his accumulated vacation time to give himself a mental and emotional break from catastrophes. To indulge in the beauty of the beach for a while, let the sounds of the surf relax his soul. To work off some of his pent-up stress by remodeling the bungalows he planned on leasing out.

A shard of bright lightning beyond the window seized Barclay’s concentration from things best forgotten. Street lights showcased Molly running through the rain toward the diner, the hood of her white hoodie pulled over her hair. His face split into a grin. She’d come after all.

His smile froze and he leaned toward the glass to get a better visual. Was someone in pursuit? His gaze bounced from the man sprinting behind her to Molly glancing over her shoulder. About thirty-feet from the diner, she fell and the man jumped her, tying a rope around her wrists before jerking her up and then knocking her down again with a punch.

Oh no! Oh, hell no!

“Be right back, Sarah.” Barclay bolted out the door.

Sounds of a struggle and curses bounced between the raindrops. Molly was definitely in trouble. Some lowlife tried to drag her into a dark blue SUV. Damn, if she wasn’t putting up a fight, kicking and jerking on the rope the man held. Words of their argument drifted through the air. Clearly the thug was bent on intimidating her and insulting her about her weight.

Barclay sprinted toward them. The rain increased, its cold drops stinging his arms and face and drenching the back of his t-shirt. “Hey! What the fucking hell’s going on?”

Molly glanced over her shoulder amid her struggle. “Barclay! Help me!” Her voice was laced with terror.

“This is a private affair, motherfucker. Stay out of it.” The man dressed in cargo pants and a tan t-shirt kept yanking her toward his vehicle. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she definitely didn’t want to go with him. The kidnapper jerked her face inches from his. “Where’s your damn car keys?” He spun toward Barclay as he got closer and pointed. “I’m warning you, butt the hell out!”

Taking orders from asshat tyrants never came easy for Barclay. He’d had enough of that shit growing up. “Duck, Molly!” She leaned and he leaped, clotheslined the potential abductor and knocked him into the street. “Roll away!” As soon as she was clear of the bastard’s grasp, Barclay punched him a few times. He stood, dragging the bloody mouthed man to his feet.

A sudden protectiveness surged though Barclay for this woman with the lovely eyes and plush curves. “Get in that heap of yours, mister, and hit the road. Don’t you dare come near her again.” Barclay opened the driver’s door and tossed her assailant inside.

“This ain’t over, asshole.” The stranger pointed to Molly. “That woman belongs to me. You’d best stop sniffin’ around her.”

Barclay grabbed the mouthy dude’s t-shirt and punched his nose, breaking cartilage. Blood flew. The wild-eyed man started his SUV and sped off, slamming the door as he spun around the corner, the wheels screeching.

Barclay squatted next to Molly. “Sugar, are you all right?”

She flinched away when he reached to touch her. “Don’t touch me!”

“I’ve never beat a woman in my life. The danger is over, Molly. Take a deep breath and repeat after me. The danger is over.” Once she did as he told her, he scooted behind her to remove the ropes. “You know who I am, right? Barclay, the guy with the dogs.”

“Dogs? Yes.” She was slowly easing back into reality. He’d seen fire victims lose touch with the genuine world for a brief time or an extended period, depending on the level of their post-traumatic stress.

“Do you remember my dogs got sprayed by skunks?” She nodded. “Molly, I’m going to untie these ropes now and rub your wrists. I won’t hurt you. Your danger is over.”

Once he removed the rope and manipulated her wrists, he slipped the cell from his pocket and moved in front of her. He thumbed the flashlight app and slowly ran the beam over her battered face. Her lower lip was bleeding and a knot had risen on her cheek. One side of her face was scraped. “Did you know who that sombitch was?”

She nodded. “My…my ex-fiancé, Wade. He followed me here from Colorado.” She rose on shaky legs and he steadied her. “Thanks for your help. I’ll be all right now.” There was a pronounced limp when she walked. “Ouch! Damn, I must have twisted my ankle when I fell. My side hurts where he kicked me.”

“You need to get cleaned up and put ice on your injuries.” He scooped her into his arms as if she was as light as a feather and strode to the diner. She tensed against him. “Relax. We’re only going inside, out of the rain. Sarah will have towels to help us dry off.”

Her muscles relaxed a fraction. “Okay. Straight to the diner. N…no-where else.”

“Yes. I need to tend to your injuries and you need something warm to drink. This Wade fellow, was he the one who put those old bruises on you? What the fuck kind of man hits a woman? Holy hell, I could never figure that one out.” Which was why he hadn’t spoken to his dad in years.

“He’s pissed because I broke off our engagement.” She jerked the hood of her jacket over her head, using the edge to blot her eyes. “You see, I took offense to Wade screwing my maid of honor and he took offense when I told him I wouldn’t marry him if he were the last man to walk on God’s green earth.” She fiddled with the string on her hoodie. “Aren’t I too heavy for you? To lug around like this, I mean.”

“Seems to me you’re about perfect.” The crass remark the woman beater had uttered about her size no doubt made her self-conscious about her weight. Hell, what did that guy know about the beauty of a woman’s curves?

Barclay carried her into the diner and gently set her in his booth. “Sarah, need another cup of coffee.” He glanced at Molly. “Or would you rather have something cold? Whatever you want, just tell me.”

With a swipe of his forearm, he wiped rain water off his face and fought the urge to shake like his dogs when they came in from the rain.

“Ice water and blueberry herbal tea. Hot.” She shakily reached for paper napkins from the chrome holder to blot at her bleeding lips. He helped her out of her wet hoodie.

Barclay changed his order and grabbed some clean rags from Sarah to dry Molly off.

“I already dialed 9-1-1.” Sarah stood on her tiptoes to glance down the street. “After you charged out of here, I watched to see what had you so upset. I couldn’t believe that man was trying to drag you to his SUV. Think he was some kind of human trafficker? Picking up women for the sex trade in another country?” Sarah set a fresh cup of coffee and one of tea on their table while she prattled on. “Need some more dry towels? Give me a sec, hon. Barclay, you want one?”

“No thanks, I’ve got another shirt in my truck.” He turned to Molly and helped dry her long hair. “Stay put while I run out to my pickup to get the first aid kit and a dry shirt.”

“Okay. Thanks. Sorry to be so much trouble.” She cast her dejected gaze on him, sadness evident in those nearly violet eyes…and he was a goner.

“Trouble? Hell, this ain’t nothing.”

When he carried in a two by four foot yellow plastic container, her eyes widened. “What do you have in there? A portable operating room?”

Flipping the black closures open, he raised the lid, wiping the water off the case’s exterior. “As a certified EMT, I’m qualified to help in any emergency.” He shrugged, both proud of his job and embarrassed he’d bragged a little. Sarah waved a dry towel in front of him and he grabbed it to rub the rain off his face and hair. He peeled off his wet t-shirt and dried off before slipping into a t-shirt that proclaimed firemen had longer hoses.

Sarah ogled his bare chest, read his shirt and laughed as she gathered up the wet rags. “I still say Yvette was a damn fool.”

“Ancient history, Sarah.” He stooped and fingered through the neatly arranged emergency supplies.

“So, you really are a fireman and…what was it you said?”

“A diver with a marine rescue unit out of the best damn fire station in Clearwater.”

Molly was starting to tremble, no doubt coming down from an adrenaline rush. He removed a blanket from his box to drape around her shoulders. “Take a piece of pie and eat. You need something to bring your glucose levels up.” He glanced in Molly’s eyes. Her pupils were dilated. “Look at me. Double chocolate sin pie okay with you?” She nodded and he slid the dessert in front of her. “Sarah, bring us two more slices in case she needs them.”

He tore open some sanitary wet wipes to wash off her face. “Let me make sure you don’t need stitches.” Cleaning her banged up cheeks and lips, he tried being gentle, but every time he glanced at her eyes to gauge her pain level, a sensual pull warmed him. A faint floral scent penetrated his nose and beguiled. How long had it been since a woman caught his emotions like this and quickly tied them into knots? He wanted to protect her in the worst kind of way.

He snapped an ice pack to make it active and told her to hold it to the side of her face where the bastard had struck her.

“Who…who’s Yvette?” She laid her cheek against the ice pack.

“Ex-wife for over a year. In a small community like this, even though the tourists make it seem bigger, some people know all about your life. Isn’t that right, Sarah?” Few people could beat the café worker in the gossip department.

The middle-aged waitress leaned her elbows on the counter. “What we call neighborly concern, you call nosy.” She sniffed and went about filling salt and pepper shakers. “It only means we care. I remember a time when you worried about everyone too. We’re all waiting for the old you to come back.”

“Scoot around so I can examine where he kicked you. Has the pain lessened any? Pull up your shirt so I can make sure your ribs aren’t broken.”

“No, I’m fine. I’m not showing any strange man my midriff.”

“Now here’s something novel. A woman with morals. Hon, I’ll stand right here and watch his every move. He gets out of line, ol’ Sarah will box his ears.”

Molly slowly pulled up her blouse and he examined her side. “Any pain when I do this?” He pressed in with two fingers.

“No more than a bad bruise.” Her contusions were bright red and would soon color to deep bruises. He lowered her top. “Now for your foot.” After squatting in front of her, he examined with sure fingers the leg she’d hurt when she’d fallen. Her calf was muscular, but nicely rounded. The kind that would feel good wrapped around his hips, which probably wasn’t the best visual to have while she was hurting. Few women got to him like that without trying. “Any pain?”

“No. So far so good.”

Yeah, my freakin’ thoughts exactly. Christ she had some pretty, shapely legs. Curvy. So curvy he’d probably dream about them tonight. “I’m going to remove your sandal so I can see if your ankle’s broken or sprained.” He carefully slipped it off.

She winced and nearly scooted backward in the booth when his fingers tested the ligaments leading to and holding her ankle joint. “Ouch! That’s a tender spot.”

“Sorry. I’m thinking it’s a bad sprain, which will require RICE, that’s rest, ice, compression and elevation.” He slung an arm over his thigh. “And I’d say your big toe is broken. I can take you to the ER for x-rays or an MRI, if you like, but there’s nothing they can do for a broken toe. It’ll swell, bruise and hurt like hell for a week.”

Tears pooled in her eyes. “Great! How am I going to work? Do you think I could wear flip-flops?”

“You’ll be lucky to walk with crutches. Besides, this foot needs elevation for a couple days at least.” He peeled the cellophane off a rolled ace bandage and began wrapping her foot. “You know, most people come here to relax, enjoy the white sands of our beaches and absorb the sun.”

“Yeah, well.” She covered her eyes with her fingertips. “Life hasn’t exactly been simple lately. Not one thing has gone right since November twelfth.”

“Why November twelfth?” The jut of her chin and the tears pooling in her eyes all but shouted she had no freakin’ plan to answer that question. He activated another ice pack and taped it to her ankle and foot. “Scoot over and rest your heel on my seat to elevate it while we have our pie and drinks. He pulled out a pack of aspirin. “Need something for the pain, Sugar?”

She opened her hand for the pills while she pierced him with tear-filled eyes. “Don’t call me Sugar.” She palmed the aspirins into her mouth and washed them down.

“Is that what that abusive son of a bitch called you?” His stomach had cramped with temper, banked since childhood yet permanently on simmer beneath the surface to protect anyone bullied or pushed around.

She shook her head. “No, but it implies that we have a connection, which we don’t.”

“Has this jerk, your ex-fiancé, always been abusive?”

“No. Never. Wade’s abuse back in Breckenridge—that’s in Colorado—came as a complete shock. Of course, so did his cheating on me. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect him to come here, although I thought I saw his dark blue SUV cruising on Gulf Boulevard. The faded paint on the hood makes it distinctive. That and the gun rack.

“My parents and I have come to this section of Indian Rocks Beach every February for my entire life, so Wade knew where I’d be. I just never expected him to follow me. Guess it was a good thing the little bungalows we always rented were closed, after all. At least he doesn’t know where we’re staying.” She sighed and stirred her tea. “We have a rental car I got at the airport. Thank goodness he doesn’t know what it looks like.”

“Why did the goon ask for your car keys?”

“Did he? I was so scared, I don’t remember.” Her forehead crinkled. “Once he attacked me, I went into fright mode. Wait. I did yell for you to help me, didn’t I?”

He slid his hand across the table until their fingertips touched. He’d have taken her hand in his but sensed, at this moment, she wasn’t ready for that much personal contact. “Yes, you did. You must have seen me running toward you two, yelling for him to stop.”

Had Wade demanded the keys to her car at home or for her rental? None of it made any sense. “If you have a vehicle, why did you walk to work?”

“To save on gas money and listen to the waves kissing the shoreline. I took ten minutes to walk out on the beach. Slipped off my shoes to bury my toes in the sand for a spell to watch the sun start to set and witness the oranges and purples. Sunsets here are phenomenal, aren’t they?” There was such sadness in her voice.

“Beyond that, Molly. Way beyond that. I don’t think anyone could get me to leave here.”

A squad car pulled into the parking area in front of the diner, drawing his attention from their conversation. Officer George Pauley eased from behind the steering wheel and ambled toward the door. Since his wife had passed away a few years ago, the policeman had put on a lot of weight. Barclay stood so the officer could sit. “George, ol’ buddy, how’s life treating you?”

“Got the gout,” he puffed on a wheeze. “My feet hurt like a sumbitch.” He squeezed into the booth across from Molly and tugged his notebook out of his pocket. “Sarah, darlin’, get me a piece of pie and a sweet tea.”

“I’ll get you a salad and a glass of water.”

Barclay shot Molly a smirk at Sarah’s retort as he sat on his plastic first aid box. Molly rolled her eyes in response. And something inside him shifted. Not that he was looking for a relationship, but if she was only going to be here a few weeks, what could it hurt to enjoy some female companionship?

“Damn bossy woman,” George mumbled in Sarah’s direction and began his questioning of the incident. When he was through, he jammed his book back into his shirt pocket. “Can you come down to the station tomorrow to sign a complaint? A man grabbing a woman on our streets don’t sit well with me. This is a fairly safe community.”

“Since it looks like I won’t be able to work, sure. I could come by in the morning.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see the paperwork’s ready.” He huffed and puffed as he maneuvered his girth from the booth. “Barclay, how soon you gonna have those cabins open for business? I saw the new sign you put up, changing the name to Grey’s Cottages. Sounds classier than Verne’s Cabins. Putting a new grey roof on each one was a nice touch. You gonna paint all the cabins the same color or keep the multi-colored tradition?”

Barclay’s gaze slid to hers and he winced at her narrowed eyes. “I’ve got one just about ready to rent out. Still need to paint it, inside and out. I’ll paint them a fresher version of their original colors. I’m working on renovating the second one now. I redid mine first so the dogs and I could move in. It feels good staying there again.”

George clasped his shoulder. “I’m glad your uncle willed you those places. Verne knew how you loved staying there with him as a kid. Having those old style cottages keeps up the charm of the town. We’ve got too many condos, you ask me.” He touched two fingers to his cap. “See you tomorrow, Miss Devon.”

“If I’m able to walk there, yes.”

“I’ll drive you, Molly. Remember, I told you to keep the ankle elevated and rest it?” I bet you dollars to donuts, she’s not going to listen to a damn word I’m telling her.

“Barclay, show me the spot the attempted abduction occurred.” He stood and followed the officer outside. The rain had stopped and the humidity hovered over the area like a cloud of steam. George slipped his flashlight from his belt. “How long have you known Miss Devon?”

“Just met her tonight at Walgreens. We got to talking and I asked her out for coffee.”

“Damn, son, you don’t waste any time.”

“Well, seems my charm didn’t do anything for her. She turned me down in a damn big hurry. I noticed the old bruises on her neck and arm, her jumpiness whenever someone came in the store and the way she glared at me like I was scum. Just figured she was skittish around men. I mean, I poured on the charm and she shook it off like a duck shakes off water.”

The officer chuckled. “Smart girl, you old horn toad.”

Barclay stopped at the rise in the sidewalk. “Here’s where she tripped when she was running. Between the downpour and the dark, she couldn’t see the uneven cement.” He retraced her steps until he found the red rope. “Here’s the rope he had tied around her wrists. So his old Blazer was parked in this spot. I pounded on him pretty good after he got behind the wheel and threatened her again. I’m pretty sure I broke his nose.”

“You always were the hot head. You got a temper in you that can’t be tamed, yet you also got a soft spot for stray dogs, kids in trouble and damsels in distress. See why folks label you a complex conundrum.” George flashed the beam of his flashlight around the area and slipped a plastic bag from his pocket. “Roll that rope up, son, and shove it in this bag.”

Evidence bag in hand, George ambled back to the squad car. “Have you asked yourself what would make a man drive all the way from Colorado to our little town in Florida just to bring back an old girlfriend?” The officer grunted. “Hell, there’s plenty other fishes in the sea. I got a feeling there’s more to this story than we know. Better head back to the station. By the time I fill out the paperwork on this incident, my shift will be over.” George opened the door to the squad car. “You be careful. Don’t let your pecker rule your head.”

The officer drove off, Barclay stepped back into the diner and stilled. Molly had pulled the rubber band from her hair and was running her fingers through the wet strands that came to her elbows. God, what would it feel like to wrap it around his wrists and hold her head in place while he kissed those soft lips?

Good thing she would only be in Indian Rocks Beach for a few weeks. With his attraction to her growing stronger by the minute, he’d be in big trouble. Since he and Yvette split up, he tended to keep his relationships short and shallow. He’d seen firsthand the damage the so-called emotion, love, could do to a person’s life.

He slipped back into his seat. “I’ll drive you to the police station tomorrow. I’m on vacation for another day. Some of the guys from the fire station are coming to paint the cabins. I can sneak away while they work.” He smiled and reached to rub his thumb over her knuckles. Then in a self-preservation move, he pulled his hand back and wrapped it around his coffee mug. “The place you’d mentioned your family always stayed. That was my uncle Vern’s five cottages, wasn’t it?”

She nodded. “My parents stayed there on their honeymoon back in eighty-two and came back every February for their anniversary. I was conceived there twenty-five years ago, or so my mother claimed. It was a second marriage for both of them and I was what old wives called a change of life baby.” She swiped at a falling tear. “Mom was killed in a car crash nearly three months ago on November twelfth.”

An old pain of loss and devastation charged into Barclay’s body and sprinted toward his heart. His mother had died just as suddenly two years ago, although bits of her emotions had been killed with every beating his bastard father had given her. Yet his abusive parent had bawled at her funeral, blubbering over and over about how much he’d loved his Carol. Drunk, abusive bastard.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Molly. You have my sympathies. My mother’s gone too. It leaves a big gap, especially when your siblings live in other states. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

She shook her head and woeful eyes rose to meet his. “Life changes in an instant, doesn’t it? A tractor trailer hit a patch of black ice and lost control. He rammed right into her little compact. Neither my father nor I have been the same since. Dad’s grieving so badly, I don’t know how much longer he’ll last. I can barely get him to eat a proper meal. He’s been living on junk food. He’s under medication for early signs of dementia.”

Damn, she had her problems.

“Somehow, from picking up our rental car at the airport, Dad lost his wallet with most of our money and credit cards, my briefcase holding my laptop and my carryon of clothes. I’m a website designer back home, so I need a computer to keep my business afloat.”

“So that’s why you’re working instead of vacationing?”

She nodded again, the fall of her dark hair hiding part of her face. “I work the morning shift here and a few evenings at the drug store. I bought a new laptop on my credit card, but I don’t want to max it out. We’ll need it in case of emergencies and for our travel expenses from the airport in Denver to home in Breckenridge.”

“I’ve got what used to be the apricot cottage just about finished inside. It needs both interior and exterior painting and furniture moved in. Would your dad be more comfortable there? It has a new deck that backs onto the beach.”

A wistful expression kissed her battered face. “That’s the one we always stayed in, but until I get some customers to pay their bills and the replacements for dad’s credit cards, we can’t afford the security deposit or the rent.”

God, he wanted her to have the place for the time she had remaining here. The why of it escaped him; he just had this innate need to help, which hadn’t been a part of him since he lost little Bella Marie. How the hell was she going to work with her ankle and foot all banged up? No one ever claimed he was going to make a good businessman, besides he had the income from his job at the station. “If you want the place, it’s yours. No security deposit. No rent. Just clean it good before you leave.”

“You can’t do that. Isn’t the object of fixing them up to have rental income?”

He nodded and tucked into the piece of pie in front of him. “To a degree. I’m living in the cottage next to it. The aqua one.” He shook the fork at her. “You know, I’m also going to need a website under the new name. We could trade services.” He grinned at her and hoped she’d take him up on his offer.

“Now that’s a deal I could handle. I wasn’t raised to take charity, but if I can work part of our obligation off that would be great. Dad’s a retired carpenter. He might be able to help you a couple hours a day, but you’d have to keep a close eye on him. One minute, he’s on track and, the next, he can’t recall what he was about to do. Do you have a webpage reserved in your name?”

“It’s in Grey’s Cottages’ name. Not much to it, Sugar, I did it myself so it’s pretty lame.”

“I’ll get started on it tomorrow. You’ll have the best website I can create. One thing though…”

His fork stilled halfway to his mouth. “What?”

“Don’t call me Sugar.”