Runaway (Fox Ridge Shifters Book 1) Page 10

  “I wasn’t wrong to make you jump, Crissy. You need to let go of whatever drives you to run from place to place. Start by telling me how you got to be this way? What makes you run? Who hurt you?”

  “Everybody.”

  “Your mother raised you?”

  “No, my father took me from her when I was eighteen months old. She was a drunk. It’s amazing I didn’t come out of the womb horribly screwed up.”

  “Your father raised you?”

  “No, he went back to jail when I was four.”

  “Back to jail?”

  “He went to jail the first time before I was born.”

  “Then you went back to your mother?” Her derisive laugh clued him in to what was to come.

  “I never saw her again. I heard she got on hard drugs. She didn’t even come to Nana’s funeral.”

  “And Nana was your great-grandmother?”

  “Yes. She raised me until I was nine.” She rubbed her face into his chest.

  “She was good? You miss her?”

  “She was the best of the lot, but she was almost too old and feeble to care for a kid. Still, she managed it and taught me lots. I still miss her.”

  She didn’t speak for a few minutes. He cupped her face in one hand and kissed her forehead. “What happened after that?”

  “Well, then came Aunt Kathy, my mother’s sister, who was a prostitute. She’d rather party than feed me. She had me for over a year before Child Protective Services figured it all out. Then I went to Aunt Isabella, my father’s sister. She...” She blew out a breath. “Her husband hated me. They all resented me and how much it cost to clothe and feed me. I learned never to ask for anything. In the end, I became their unpaid babysitter.”

  “How long were you with them?”

  “About four years. My dad got out of jail. I was fourteen when he finally did.”

  “And then?”

  “He said I ‘needed things.’ He ‘wanted to provide better for us.’ He specialized in car theft.” She shook her head. “He’s not a very good thief.”

  “How old were you that time?”

  “Sixteen and a half. My junior year of high school. I went to live on a friend’s couch. Saved my money, bought a car, and took off the moment I graduated.”

  “And you’ve been running ever since.”

  “Yep.”

  “Well you don’t have to run anymore. You’ve found your place.”

  “You think it’s that easy?” She met his gaze and snorted. “You’re such a pie-eyed optimist. You’re always looking up and seeing blue sky. I’ll bet you do even when it’s storming down on your head.”

  He laughed and rolled her over to pin her body with his and cover her cheeks with kisses. “And you, my beauty, are always looking down, and can see stones in the smoothest path.”

  “I’m practical. You’re not.”

  “You’re jaded. I’m not.” He gave her a squeeze. “Stay with me, Crissy. Please. I promise I will never abandon you. I’ll never hurt you, and I’ll protect you from anyone who does.”

  In response she curled up close to him. She didn’t completely relax until sleep claimed her, but she didn’t leave. Though he sensed much work still to be done with her, for now he would take what he could get.

  ###

  Crissy’s neck and shoulders spasmed from three days on the road, gripping the wheel while driving through wind-swept snow. All for her annual visit to her piece-of-shit father. Only guilt compelled her to make this annual trek.

  Menard Corrections Center loomed at the edge of the road, old buildings of tan stone incongruous among the newer ones. Guard shacks. Where every girl wanted to spend her Christmas vacation.

  She stowed her purse under her front seat, keeping her keys and ID. The metal detectors and wands always made her flesh crawl, as if she had something to hide when she never did. The cacophony in the grubby waiting room had her twitching. The woman in the cheap plastic seat next to hers talked loudly to the man on the other side, swearing every other word.

  She passed the time reviewing in her head places she’d rather be and things she’d rather be doing. Laundry. Check. Unclogging the toilet. Check. Babysitting her little cousins. Crissy eyed the crying babies and whining toddlers. Maybe not that.

  A guard finally led her to a cubicle with a telephone and a window in front of it. She sat and laced her fingers before her and waited some more.

  “You’re early this year,” her father said first thing when he settled his large frame across from her and picked up the phone.

  “I have someplace to be on Christmas.”

  “Really? You’ve made some friends?” His face lit up.

  She bristled with irritation, not at him but at herself. This was what always made her soften toward him. He appeared to genuinely care.

  “Yeah, you could call them that.”

  “Tell me about your year. I got a postcard from Bozeman, Montana.”

  She gripped the phone tighter. “That sums up my year.”

  “Come on. Give me more. Where are you living now? You in school yet? I know you want that.” His lips twitched, a hint of amusement, like he knew he would get everything but he’d have to pull it out of her with dental extraction tools.

  So she gave in and told him about the bars she worked for and the friends she made. All the while he listened and asked questions as if it were the most fascinating discussion he’d ever had.

  “Dad, have you ever met a shifter?”

  “A shifter?”

  “Yeah. You know, one of the people who turn into animals.”

  He raised his brows. “You believe in that hocus?”

  “Dad, you were the one who told me about them. You know I see things others don’t.”

  He leaned back a little and glanced around the room. The people around them were engaged in their own noisy conversations. He leaned forward and said, “Yeah, I’ve come across a couple of ’em. I actually met one once, on a job I did.”

  “A shifter thief?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How’d you know he was a shifter? Did he tell you?”

  He grinned the charming grin that in her younger days always made her feel like the center of his world. “You think your sight came just from your Nana?”

  She gaped. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

  “You didn’t need no encouragement.”

  “What?”

  “You weren’t turning out normal, Crissy. It’s best to keep some things to yourself.”

  Incredible. “You thought so even though you had the Sight?”

  “Keep your voice down. Do me no good for this to get around. And I was just thinking about you, Crissy. I didn’t want you to be teased by the other kids. Didn’t want people talkin’ ’bout you.”

  She placed her palm on her cheek for a second and stared at him. He had a point.

  “I always did my best to take care of you.”

  “Did you? Was that why you went off and got yourself arrested so many times?”

  “You needed me to provide for you. I was just tryin’ to do that.”

  “I needed a safe home with someone who actually gave a damn what happened to me.” Her voice rose, and she didn’t care. Everything she kept inside for the last ten years came pouring out, like lancing a boil. “You left me with a drug addict for my first eighteen months, an old woman almost too feeble to care for me, an aunt who was a hooker and would rather party than feed me, and another aunt who only wanted an unpaid babysitter. Then, when you finally got your act together and gave me a home, you couldn’t stop stealing.”

  “You needed things.”

  “I needed you! I needed you to care about me more than getting money. You always took care of yourself first.” It came to her in an awful flash of clarity. He took care of himself, and in prison he needed the McGowans’ influence to make it happen.

  She hushed her voice. “You. It was you.”

  “What? Me what? What are you talking
about?”

  She always knew when he lied. His eyes widened, and he blinked more. He knew what she was talking about.

  “You’re the only one who knows where I live. Every time Sean found me, it was after I sent you a Christmas card or a postcard.”

  “If that’s even true, it must be a coincidence.”

  “Liar.” Heat flushed her cheeks and her voice rose. “What did you get for selling out your own daughter to the McGowan family?”

  Her father ran his hand over his face. Several people stared, distracted by their raised voices. Her father hunched forward and whispered, “Look. I’ll probably die before I get out of here. The McGowans protect me. And besides, you sold me out first.”

  The anger swamped every nerve, threatening to burst from her in an explosion of rage. Any guilt she might have ever felt died a flaming death. “How could you do that? You know Sean threatened to kill me!”

  “Lower your voice.”

  “No! I’m done.” She rose, slammed down the phone, and stomped toward the guard. At the door, she glanced back to see him staring down at the table, not meeting her eyes. Even now, he wasn’t there for her.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Yellow street light bathed the borrowed sedan facing Bobby’s Place in the quiet town. Bernie waited for several hours, head leaned against the driver window. Twice a police car slowly passed, and he ducked down. He knew the Baumanns had a shifter in the sheriff’s department. Better to not let word get back to Luke he’d been following his mate. The shit would really hit the fan. Worse, he’d have to face his brother. Bernie knew his behavior proved he was unbalanced, but he didn’t know how to help himself.

  So far, Crissy must not have told anyone she’d spotted him.

  Crissy’s shift ended at midnight, and he wasted hours sitting here in the chilly car and watching the back door of the restaurant when he knew he wouldn’t see her, but he couldn’t stop. At last the alarm on his phone chimed, the sound startling after so many hours of quiet. He silenced it and sat up straighter. Midnight had come.

  The back door to the restaurant swung open, and the waitress exited with several other workers he recognized from previous vigils. They walked down the alley with quick strides, obviously eager to return to their homes. A few minutes later, the lights went out over the front door and in the main room of the restaurant. Crissy came out all alone. He frowned. She shouldn’t be alone in the night like this, vulnerable. Luke took poor care of her to let this happen. Did he not realize how precious she was? Bernie considered himself a guardian rather than a stalker.

  Crissy pulled out her braid as she walked down the darkest part of the alley. In the faint light, he could see her comb her fingers through her long hair and rub her scalp with her fingertips as if it bothered her. She certainly was lovely, and although he wouldn’t mind making love to a woman like her, the interest she aroused wasn’t sexual. He wanted not her, but what she represented—the end of centuries of loneliness. The end of the restless searching. Visible, living proof Fate forgave Luke for the death of Magritte. Some part of Bernie knew what he himself did was a far greater sin, but so much time had passed. Please, Fate. Please forgive me. They were words he thought hundreds of times and even whispered into the night when he felt most alone.

  He started his engine when she turned onto the sidewalk, ready to follow her to the awful apartment she lived in. Every night she walked the two blocks home. Luke didn’t deserve her. Fate made a mistake to let this beautiful woman wander around late at night and live in such conditions. It bothered him he couldn’t watch her every minute of the day. He had a business to run. Sometimes he needed food and sleep. When he was away from her, he worried constantly.

  Faintly through the windows of the car, he heard another engine rev to life. A sleek silver Porsche Cayenne SUV pulled out of a parking space in front of the grocery store and paused at the exit to the street. Must be someone from out of town. Probably no one in the entire county owned such a luxurious car. It idled there while Crissy made her way home. She crossed in the middle of the street and turned into the small alley that led to the bigger one behind the hardware store. The Porsche exited the lot and slipped down Main Street, its expensive motor nearly inaudible, and passed in front of him. When it turned left at the end of the next block, Bernie followed.

  At the corner of Main and 3rd Street, Bernie didn’t turn. There was no traffic in the deserted town at this hour, so he paused at the intersection and watched. The driver of the Porsche halted at the spot where Crissy’s alley emptied onto 3rd. The driver’s window slid down and an elbow came to rest on the door. A suggestion of a face, someone watching. Whoever it was waited for several minutes before speeding off down the street.

  Bernie chased after the Porsche, but it raced onto the highway at a pace only a fool would try to match in the dark. The recklessness of the driver gave him a chill. If his own life and safety meant so little to him, what did it mean for someone else’s, namely Crissy’s?

  ###

  Sean laughed as he negotiated the twists and turns of the country highway. He’d been lucky this time. Crissy told her father that she worked in a bar in Northern California, and her boss’s name was Bobby. One minute with Google, and he’d found this Podunk town in the foothills to nowhere and the tired bar where she worked. Stupid Crissy always worked in a bar. While it didn’t always make his search easy—she’d worked in some pretty out-of-the-way spots—it did make it simple.

  He arrived at the cabin he rented. He would take everything from her, as she had done to him. She would suffer as he did in that dismal prison, and then he would kill her. He wished it could take the same three years she had taken from his life, but he had things to do, and he grew tired of the game.

  ###

  Crissy sat on a stool behind the deserted bar with a large plate of fries and ketchup at her elbow and Ulysses in one hand. With this storm, she hoped Bobby would close the bar and send her home. So far, no luck.

  Luke’s presence had been in town for the last hour, moving up the business district in her direction, so she wasn’t surprised when she felt him approach, the door flinging open in a gust of wind and little snow flurries. She kept her eyes on her book, pretending not to notice him. As he settled onto the nearest stool with a sigh and a harsh shiver, she lazily swiped a fry through the ketchup and brought it to her mouth, licking her fingers. He exhaled a little roughly. She bit her lip against a grin.

  Damn, he’s easy.

  “You can look up. I know you know it’s me.”

  She smiled and set the open book face down on the bar. “You’ve saved me. I now have an excuse not to read this damn book.”

  He peered at it. “Ulysses? I tried to read that once.” He lifted his shoulders. “Couldn’t get through it.”

  “I don’t think I will, either.”

  “Cliff Notes?” he said.

  “Internet, I’m sure, but why bother? I don’t need to read it.”

  “I read a lot.”

  “What do you like?” she asked.

  “Anything, as long as the writing’s good. Science fiction. The classics. Those fantasy novels with elves and guys with horses. I’ll even read romance if there’s nothing else lying around.”

  “No kidding? Tolkien?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Azimov or Heinlein?”

  “Heinlein. And Bradbury.”

  “I love Bradbury.”

  “He’s a bit overwrought but still good.”

  She felt something as they spoke. A deepening of the connection she already knew she had with him. She realized the deep blue light stretched directly heart to heart. No ordinary attraction between a man and a woman, their connection was birthed in the magical realm. What did that mean?

  It scared her. She changed the subject.

  “Beer?”

  He frowned, as if he sensed her sudden uneasiness. “It’s a little chilly for beer. Coffee?”

  “I have fresh-made hot chocolate. Not
the kind from a powder.”

  “That sounds wonderful.” He said it with a bit of an accent. Vonderful.

  She reached under the bar for a special mug she put there for him. Enormous, with a Yellowstone grizzly bear on the side, she wanted to see his reaction as she set it in front of him.

  He stared at the mug, a slow grin spreading across his handsome face. God, he was cute when he smiled. As horny as his big, hot body made her, his quiet expressions and the slow, sure way he moved, touched her in other places. It made her feel something she didn’t want to feel.

  “I’ll bet you want whipped cream on it.”

  “It’s one of my favorite things. How’d you know?”

  “I just did. And ginger snaps.”

  “Ja. Ginger snaps. Yellowstone? You been there?”

  “Yeah. Drove through on the way here.” She held up the mug. “See?”

  He met her eyes.

  She stared back. “I had to have this mug, long before I even knew you existed. I’m not a souvenir kind of person. We have some kind of connection between us, Luke. The cord.”

  He nodded as if mesmerized, eyes never leaving her face. “And you’re my mate.”

  She flushed all over before the blood drained from her face. The mug clunked down on the bar. For a moment she gripped the edge to stay on her feet. Then she turned and walked through the kitchen and out the back door.

  Wearing only her tee, jeans, and apron, the cold hit her like a slap, but she couldn’t bring herself to return. She stood in the freezing snow, arms wrapped around her middle, hands tucked under them, trying to think. She had a sense of something huge looming before her, something she could wrap her arms around and hold tight, and she wasn’t merely thinking about the hunky bear behind her in the bar.

  She believed him. By God, she believed him. The blue light. It was the light of a mating bond. It didn’t appear in her research, but she had never seen anything like it between two other people—human people. Those weird coincidences of knowing what he liked. The cravings for foods and things she hadn’t thought about in years. His presence lingering in her senses no matter how far away.