Chapter 10 #2
“Yes, it does. C’mere.” He pulled her closer, ignoring the way she stiffened.
He couldn’t blame her. Hell. Bet she thought he’d fucked her and kicked her to the curb.
“My cell phone doesn’t work in the mountains, and I just got back from Search and Rescue at lunchtime today.
It didn’t seem like a good plan to call you here. ”
She showed no reaction for a long minute. Finally, her gaze lifted. “You’ve been hiking since Sunday morning?”
“Yep. Lucky for you that I showered at the station.”
After a second, she half-smiled. “You look like you’ve been camping. Your beard is longer. Scruffier.”
Oddly enough, he hadn’t trimmed it after his shower, thinking of giving her a new sensation in bed. Not that he’d mention it right now.
“Did you find the kid who got lost?” Her brow was wrinkled with concern.
He liked how she put aside her own problems for someone else’s. “I did, sweetheart. And I’ll give you the rundown later.” Unfortunately, he needed to unsettle her again. “After you tell me what happened to upset you.”
When she took a step back, he moved with her, curving an arm around her waist. “Let’s find a place to talk.”
The parking area stretched across the front of the facility. When he stopped at his truck and opened the passenger door, she pulled away.
“My car’s over there.” She pointed.
“You’re too shook up to drive, pet. Come home with me.”
“No.” She shook her head, taking a step back.
“Hmm.” Well, they were still new to each other, and she was obviously shaken.
He’d have preferred quiet, but looked like he’d be joining Virgil after all.
“Then we’ll join a couple of friends. A cop from my station—Lieutenant Masterson—and his wife are at the ClaimJumper. I’ll bring you back afterward.”
As she stared at his truck, he could almost see the war going on in her head.
Too much thinking. With a grunt of amusement, he lifted her, set her inside, fastened her seatbelt, and closed the door.
When he swung into the driver’s seat, he fully expected the narrow-eyed glare she gave him.
“I can make up my own mind, you know,” she snapped.
“I know, Gin.” He curled a hand around her nape and took himself a slow kiss. “But I didn’t want you to think of reasons to say no. I’ve been looking forward to being with you.”
Damned if he couldn’t feel her anger seep away, and he smiled against her lips before enjoying another kiss. She was so fucking sweet.
According to Atticus, the owner of the ClaimJumper Tavern loved old-time country-western music, but occasionally could be talked into the current century if a good-looking female asked…which was how Gin ended up at the bar, asking for Keith Urban or Blake Shelton.
She waved her hands to show how much she liked the music.
After some grumbling in Swedish, Gustaf said, “For you, such a pretty girl, I put it on.”
“Pretty girl?” Love it. Gin smiled. She wouldn’t let Slidell get away with calling her a girl, but the old Swede used it in a way that was adorable. Maybe because he called the men boys.
As the music changed to She Wouldn’t Be Gone, she did a victory dance step and wiggle.
A huge man seated on a barstool laughed. “Hey there. I haven’t seen you here before.”
“Ah, I don’t come in here very often.”
“Well, I’m glad you did. Get you a drink?” With a gap-toothed grin, he reached for her right hand.
Her chest seized up, and her skin went icy. She jolted backward. “No. I mean, no, thank you. I’m with friends.”
“She’s with me, Barney.” When Atticus pulled her against him, the rush of relief was disconcerting.
Barney shrugged amiably. “Oh, well.”
My stars, she was acting like an idiot. What had set her off like that? Pulling in a breath, she gave the man a nice smile. “Have a good evening.”
“You too, missy.”
Atticus jerked his chin up at the guy and guided her away toward their table in the back. To Gin’s delight, Atticus’s coworker, Lieutenant Masterson, had turned out to be Sunny’s husband.
At the table, Sunny was pouring glasses of beer. The nurse’s blonde hair was loose and shone brightly against her fluffy blue sweater.
Her husband sat in a chair next to her, one thickly muscled arm behind her back.
His brown cowboy hat was a few shades darker than his sandy hair.
He looked to be a smidge taller than Atticus and maybe an inch broader in the shoulders.
Pretty darn big, really, and it was difficult to imagine petite Kallie as his cousin.
Even if Gin lived in Bear Flat for a decade, she doubted she’d get all the relationships worked out.
Politely, Virgil rose and pulled out a chair for her. “Good work with Gustaf and the music.”
“Thanks. He’s quite a tough sell.”
“Sit here, baby.” Unsmiling, Atticus helped her into the chair as if she were a ninety-year-old cripple. With a walker.
“Thank you.” I think.
“Now hold still.” He curled his fingers around her right hand and tugged her sweater sleeve up.
Red-black bruises at the wrist showed where Slash had grabbed her.
Mouth compressed, he bent her arm up. His firm grip on her hand prevented any attempt to pull away as he ran a finger over her swollen forearm.
She flinched. It still hurt, and no wonder. A thick purple-black line marked where the inmate had slammed her arm against the desk’s edge.
“This what had you upset at the prison?” Although Atticus’s face had darkened, his voice was even. Controlled.
“Um.” Being among friends had let her escape the memory, but… She bit her lip, realizing why she’d almost panicked with the man sitting at the bar. Because he’d reached for her hand like Slash had. Atticus had noticed. “You’re very observant.”
“A-huh. Nice try at evasion. Now tell me what happened.” The stern set of his jaw and continued hold on her arm made her bones feel like Jell-O.
Beside her, Virgil gripped her left hand and pulled up the sleeve. After a quick check, he told Atticus, “Nothing here.” At her surprised look, he squeezed her fingers. “We’re cops. Seeing marks on a woman tends to upset us. Now answer your Dom.”
“He’s not—” Her protest died when Atticus lifted a brow. Well, maybe he had been her Dom for one night—okay, two. But still… “Fine,” she huffed. “An inmate came on to me sexually, so I summoned help. Before the guard arrived, the inmate lost his temper and slammed my arm on the desk.”
“Jesus,” Atticus growled and traced a finger over the black bruising. “He could have busted your arm.”
Sunny’s face paled.
“I’m fine,” Gin said hastily.
“The CO was slow getting to you,” Atticus said with far too much comprehension. His gaze cleared, and he cupped her cheek. “I seriously don’t like you working there.”
His concern made her eyes pool with tears. Preston hadn’t worried about her. If she’d been upset about a violent client, he’d never asked how it was going. If she were safe.
During a tropical storm, a tree had come down on her car. When she got home three frightening hours late, he’d been watching a movie.
When she was sick, he’d visit friends to ensure he didn’t catch anything.
She’d never realized how…unloved…his indifference had made her feel.
With a wavery smile, she looked into Atticus’s gunmetal blue eyes. “I’ll be fine. And this inmate won’t be back to see me again.”
“Gang member?” Virgil frowned at her.
“One of the neo-Nazis who came in recently.” According to the sergeant, their subculture tended toward irrational violence.
She gave Virgil a wry look. “I was surprised that—at least in prison—a lot of established gangs require respect for female medical personnel. Apparently the skinheads go to the other extreme and hate women.”
After a minute, Atticus took his chair beside her, still holding her fingers.
He handed her a beer, took one for himself, and lifted it.
“Here’s to the southern magnolia moving to a better job.
” After the clicking of glasses and agreement, he brushed his lips over her cheek.
“Although I’m grateful for the help you gave my brother. ”
He’d noticed the change in Sawyer. Happiness filled her.
As Virgil sat back, looking more like a cowboy than a cop, Gin glanced at Atticus.
Black cowboy hat, battered boots, jeans belted with a rodeo buckle, and denim western shirt.
Both guys looked as if they’d come in off the range.
“Tell me, does the police station list horseback riding and roping as job skills?”
“Hell, they won’t even let me wear my hat.” Virgil grinned. “Tell you what, some of those skills come in handy, like the way Atticus tracked down the teenager.”
“Will he be all right?” Sunny asked.
“He’ll be in the hospital overnight, but looks like mostly dehydration and frostbite,” Virgil said. “I daresay he’s pretty grateful to be alive.”
“Might have found him sooner, but I got sidetracked following two of his friends.” Atticus’s eyes crinkled. “They weren’t very grateful. Maybe because I caught them bare-ass naked and fornicating their fucking heads off.”
Gin choked on her beer.
“I haven’t been called names like that in years,” Atticus said. “And that was the girl.”
Sunny was giggling. “The law enforcement career is a challenging one.”
Atticus flicked a glance at Virgil. “Can see you don’t get much sympathy from your woman.”
“She makes it up to me in other ways,” Virgil murmured, running the backs of his fingers over her cheek.
Sunny flushed a dark red and turned to Gin. “Ah…so, I didn’t get a chance to ask last time we met. You’d said the prison was very different. So what did you do in Louisiana? Not a prison?”
“Not even close. I worked in a mental health center that specialized in families and children. I loved it.” Oh, she really had.
Atticus tilted his head, watching her silently.
“Then why didn’t you pick something like that instead of a prison?” Sunny asked.