Chapter Eight
Rose had grown up in Seven Roads. Born there, gone through childhood there, and had only left for school before coming right on back.
She was as tried and true a local as Price, with roots just as deep as those of Liam’s wife, Blake.
And even though her parents had moved to Tennessee five years prior, and her aunt and cousin had followed them too, she wasn’t short on people she could count on in a pinch.
Yet, there she was accepting help from James like she had no other options in the bag.
“I already got your shop blown up, so are you sure you want me hanging out with you?” she asked, half joking, half absolutely serious. The man had already gone through a few inches with her, now she was asking for some miles.
James shrugged the question off.
“I’m the one who offered first,” he pointed out.
“If you’re so worried, make me sign a waiver.
” He cracked a smile then pointed past the windshield to a building coming into view in the distance.
They had been driving for at least fifteen minutes since leaving the sheriff’s department.
Rose knew the area but hadn’t before seen the house James had moved into since coming to Seven Roads years ago.
Not that she was sure what she was looking at was a home.
James chuckled, maybe picking up on her thoughts.
“Plus, some days I think it might be easier to just start over with this heap anyways,” he said.
“Having it blow up might help me more than it hurt me.” He let his foot up on the gas and maneuvered them into a gravel parking spot.
It cornered an open field of overgrown grass.
It wasn’t as wide or vast as Old Man Becker’s fields on the opposite side of town, but it took some squinting to see the furthest edge near a cropping of trees off in the distance.
James put the truck in Park, puffed out his chest and made sure she was looking at him before he spoke clearly and with ample volume.
“Unless I’m in there when it blows. If that’s the case, I hereby absolve you of any guilt, Rose Little.
” He held up three fingers like he was making a Scouts’ honor sign.
“I, James Keller of sound mind, invited you to my home of my own doing. Anything and everything that happens after this point was because I’m a ten-out-of-ten individual with nerves of steel and a kind, caring heart.
Oh, and charming too. And funny. And a mechanic whiz. ”
Rose snorted.
“And apparently humble.”
He gave her a thumbs-up.
“See? You understand how outstanding I am. So let’s just stop this whole ‘stay away’ bit you’ve been trying to pull since Sheriff Weaver came into that room with the whole ‘good news, bad news’ thing.
” James, dare she think it, turned almost sulky.
“I have to be honest though, I thought that had become our trauma-bond thing.”
Rose felt her eyebrow rise at his expression, but he was already going about getting out of the truck to catch it.
James was a big, intimidating man.
He was also surprisingly childlike at times.
It was almost refreshing.
Especially after the news Liam had given them back at the department.
“The good news is we just found the bomb maker,” Liam had said after stepping back into the conference room.
“His name is Dave Kyler and one of the men who came to the garage at Damon’s order was the one to roll on him.
Darius, along with the FBI agent who came in once a bomb was in play, found Dave not too far from here.
They’re still talking to him, but Darius said so far it looks like he was given a pretty penny to assemble it. ”
Rose hadn’t recognized the name but was relieved that the one with the ability to make homemade bombs might be truly out of the picture.
“And the bad news?” she had to ask.
Liam had put his hands on his hips. Another big-man gesture in contrast with his icy exterior.
“He said the original plan was to put it in your apartment, but he refused, because even though he saw you as a job, he didn’t want to hurt any kids.”
“Melinda and Madeline,” Rose offered.
Liam had nodded, not at all happy.
James had spoken up then, to ask, “Melinda and Madeline?”
“The children of the family in the unit across the hall from my apartment.”
“Which is the bad news,” Liam had said.
Rose had agreed, but still she had to say it out loud.
“It means that Damon definitely knows where I live.”
That one statement had led her to the beginning of a cracked concrete path that ran straight to a house that looked as frustrated and tired as she felt.
The man who owned the weathered two-story house was opposite it in cheer. Smiling once again, he waved his arm out toward the worn brick and made an exaggerated announcement.
“Wildcard Little, welcome to the purchase I’ll probably never financially recover from.”
James led her down the path and into the house without any more fanfare.
Rose split her attention between her surroundings and the man next to her as they walked through each room.
No one was hiding or ready to attack during the first-floor tour of the kitchen, dining room, living area, laundry room, or bathroom.
The same held true for the upstairs. James gave a flourish when they made it to the guest bedroom she would be staying in for the near future.
It, like the bubbly personality that occasionally surfaced in its owner, was a surprising contrast to the work-in-progress look of the rest of the home.
Everything was…soft. Soft on the eyes and seemingly to the touch.
Even the small knickknacks and framed pictures on the walls had a feeling of warmth emanating from them.
This wasn’t just a guest bedroom. It was a room that had been set up with extreme care and with a heavy feminine hand.
Was James just that good at design or had a woman helped him with this?
A question that Rose hadn’t thought to ask until now blared across her mind.
Was… Was James in a relationship? His ring finger was bare but that didn’t mean he wasn’t taken.
How had she disrupted this man’s life without knowing a thing about his life?
What if she wasn’t just intruding in his life but also his—
“I know what you’re thinking,” James said, setting her hospital bag on top of the vanity next to the bed and interrupting her internal spiral. “Normally, I should get some kind of HGTV award for this little oasis, but I’m sad to say, this was all Mom.”
Rose’s worries skidded to a halt.
“Your mom?” she repeated.
He nodded.
“She said she didn’t care how long it takes me to fix this place up as long as I have a nice place for company,” he said. “I think she was meaning that more for her than anyone else. She wasn’t exactly a fan of me buying this heap.”
In a rare change, James seemed to express a feeling of doubt.
“To be honest, I hadn’t really planned on it either.”
He sighed and switched back to the tour in the span of a breath.
“The bathroom in the hallway is nice too and my room is on the other side of it down the hall. Feel free to roam anywhere. This place may not look the greatest but it’s functional and safe.
You won’t go falling through any holes in the ceiling or accidentally use pipes that will spray water everywhere. ”
“Ah, the two movie pitfalls of renovating,” she said with humor.
James shrugged.
“You laugh, but my first month here?” He pulled a blank expression. “Both happened.”
That lack of emotion wiped away with a laugh. One Rose shared in.
It blocked the reality of their present predicament for a while. James excused himself to let her get settled and took a phone call somewhere else in the house. Rose used his absence to her advantage and called her parents.
Hiding what had happened with the bomb had been impossible once it hit the local news, never mind the gossip.
Rose had known this impossibility would back her into a corner, so she had been preemptive and come out swinging before that happened.
She had called her parents as soon as the first doctor had spoken to her once she had woken up in the hospital.
The Littles weren’t totally gobsmacked that Rose had found herself in another dangerous situation. They were, however, very reactive to the fact that this time around there had been an explosion.
“Seven Roads is supposed to be a sleepy town, but I swear all you seem to be getting is nightmares!” her mom had exclaimed once she realized Rose was fine. “We can find you a better life here. One that isn’t this—this dangerous!”
Her father had been less loud. And demanding.
“She’s not wrong, Rosy. You have to admit your last few tumbles in Seven Roads have been pretty spectacular. Not in a good way, either.”
“Which means I should be good from here on out,” Rose had tried to assure them. “I’ve been through the extreme parts, now we should be at the boring, paperwork ones.”
It was a lie.
But Rose had never been against telling a fib or two to ease the worries of loved ones.
Loved ones who could be used against her if they came back to town to see about her.
A point Rose had to underline to her father without admitting that Damon Tillman was still out there and probably would still be gunning for her.
“Hey, Dad, there’s a few people still not the happiest with me and I’m worried some of that could reach up to y’all. So do me a favor and keep a good eye out there. Maybe even stay close to the house until things have cooled off around here.”
Her father, ever a girl dad, seemed to be caught between talking to his baby girl and talking to the strong, independent woman he had helped raise.
“Will do,” he had eventually promised. “You keep us in your loop, Rosy. Texts, if not calls, every day to let us know you’re good. Put the code in it too so I know no one’s messing with us.”
Rose had smiled at that. She had grown up watching spy thrillers, police procedurals and action flicks with her parents. One day they had joked they needed a family code to use just in case. That joke had turned into an all-out family tradition between the three of them.
Now, sitting at a small table in the kitchen downstairs, Rose sent off a quick follow-up text telling her dad that she loved them.
She added the word hon at the end.
It was only by the grace of good reflexes that she kept from jumping when James appeared by her shoulder and repeated the last word.
“Hon?” One syllable but it came out strong and deep.
Rose flipped her phone over onto the tabletop and crossed her arms over her chest with a scowl. One that was definitely heating.
“Well, aren’t we nosy.”
James held up his hands in defense as he walked over to the refrigerator.
“I wasn’t meaning to be,” he said. “My eyes tend to wander when my feet are.” He did his Scouts’ honor sign again. “No disrespect meant.”
Rose believed him, so she answered his question. Though she did it with the scowl still hanging on. She might have realized she was more comfortable with the man than was normal for her, but that didn’t mean he had to know that too.
“It’s from a show me and my parents watched a few years back during Christmas. It means ‘honey.’ If we don’t say it, it’s not us.”
Other people might have had an eyebrow to raise at that, but James was simple.
He nodded with total acceptance.
“That’s weirdly loving, Little. I bet your boyfriend gets a kick out of it too.”
If Rose had been drinking something, she would have sputtered a little into it at that.
“If I were dating someone, they sure aren’t hitting the mark. Have you seen anyone around me?” She motioned to the empty room around them. “I may be wild but even I deserve someone who will show up when someone’s trying to kill me.”
It was an offhand comment. One that hadn’t meant much to her.
Yet, it seemed to have struck some kind of a chord with James.
His smile left.
His words drove a stake into the ground.
“I’m here.”
That heat from earlier expanded within Rose. She tried to play it off again, but this time, it didn’t land as cleanly.
“I—I meant someone other than you. And well, the department.” She forced a laugh. “Though I guess that’s already more people than most get, so I shouldn’t complain.”
He was too far away for her to see the gold in his eyes, but the green grabbed her easy.
If he wanted to say something, he looked like he changed his mind in the middle of the thought. He shook his head a little.
Then that smile was back.
Suddenly, the small room felt much smaller with just the two of them in it.
And the heat in Rose’s cheeks continued to simmer for it.
* * *
“THEY FOUND DAVE KYLER,” the man said. “He was quick to admit you hired him to put a bomb in the deputy’s apartment.”
He was short but intimidating in his own right, clean-cut in his pressed, button-up and slacks, and hair styled with gel more expensive than most people’s monthly paycheck. He was young too.
Not as young as Derrick had been.
Damon Tillman felt the rage in him pulse.
He didn’t let it show. He had expected this news.
“Which means the deputy should have realized that I know where she lives now,” Damon said. “Which means, if she’s crafty, she’ll find somewhere else to lay her head tonight.” He felt the corners of his lips lift into sharp points. “And thankfully, she’s as crafty as I hoped.”
The young man opposite him, holding a clipboard and a blank expression like it was his only job in life, nodded.
“Not all of the guns for hire turned on you, but two did and that was enough,” he added.
Damon nodded.
“Which already confirmed to that dear Detective Williams and sheriff that I’m still most likely in the area code.”
The man agreed with his own nod. Then, despite his steely demeanor, he let some of the curiosity he’d been holding on to the last few months slip out.
“Why can’t we do away with her now? We know where she is. It would be easy.”
Damon felt like his smile was a knife, cutting into his own skin while it waited to cut into another’s.
“Because Rose Little’s being dead isn’t the goal,” he said. “It’s the act of dying that I want to focus on.”
The young man didn’t ask any more questions. Instead, he gave the last of his report.
“Then I’ll give Mr. Danvers the go-ahead.”
Damon gave a slow nod.
“Even if she can survive this round, I doubt she will the next.”
The young man left, but Damon stayed in the office.
While Rose’s death by Mr. Danvers would work for him, Damon couldn’t help but find himself rooting for Rose just a little.
Mr. Danvers would be quick.
What came next, wouldn’t be.