01 Do You Believe in Magic - The Children of Merlin (14 page)

Maggie shook her head, her eyes
big.

“Get a chair.”

She dragged one over from the
table.

“Prop it under the door handle.”
He watched as she barricaded the door. “Window?”

“Broken pane. Boarded up.”

“Good. Let him stew in his own
juices.”

She turned away, ashamed. He
reached for her shoulder. The pull of her warmth was almost
overwhelming. She shrugged away, dabbing at her eye, and stalked to
the stove, leaving Tris feeling awkward and foolish in the middle
of the room. What could he say?
Why don’t you leave here?
Like it was simple with the old man having cirrhosis. When she
couldn’t afford both a place of her own and his medical bills. He
wanted to give her money. He wanted to take her in his arms and
tell her she’d always be safe. What she needed was a man of her
own.

That thought brought such
conflicting emotions he couldn’t decipher them. So he just stood
there, trying to settle. All right, he didn’t like to think about
her with a man other than him. But he wasn’t her man. He hardly
knew her. In fact, he was no woman’s man. No wonder his mother
despaired.

But he had to say something. “He
doesn’t value you like he should.”
Understatement of the
century. Great, Tremaine.

She didn’t turn around. She just
shook her head as if to tell him to stop talking about it. He
hobbled to the refrigerator and pulled some ice from the freezer,
wrapped it in his washcloth, and limped over to her. She was crying
onto the steaks on the counter. He gently turned her around. He was
so close he could smell the kind of soap she used. Something
flowery. Not what he’d have guessed. He tilted her chin up to look
at her cheek and the move was just the one he’d make if he were
going to kiss her. That made his breathing go a little ragged.
Don’t be a prick. You’re not going to kiss her. You don’t take
advantage of a woman when she’s feeling vulnerable.
A nasty red
mark was beginning to swell. She’d bruise for sure.

“Here,” he croaked. “Hold this
to your cheek.” He wrapped her hand around the washcloth filled
with ice, and the feel of skin to skin was…. Tris blinked. Maggie’s
eyes jerked to his face. She blinked, too. He swallowed and somehow
brought the makeshift ice pack gently to her cheek. “You … go sit
down. I’ll get these steaks cooked.”

“You’re the guest,” she said in
a small voice. “And you’re hurt.”

“Just let somebody do something
for you for once,” he said roughly. Of course she never asked for
anything. Why would she, when her only experience was with a father
incapable of giving? She’d never realize other people would be glad
to do things for her, value her as she should be valued, love her
even.

“You can hardly stand.”

“With two Vicodin 750s and two
shots of whiskey in me, believe me, I’m feeling just fine. Steaks
will just take a minute. If you smell them burning, give a holler,
since I might be feeling so fine I forget to turn them.”

She kind of went slack and
nodded, the washrag with the ice held to her cheek. She took the
salad bowl to the table with her and sat. “Try not to burn the
house down.”

Tris fired up the stove under
the cast-iron skillet and put some butter in the pan. When it
sizzled, he slapped in two steaks. Elroy was going without dinner
tonight. Just because he had cirrhosis it didn’t mean he could hit
a woman for trying to help him. His own daughter, too. Tris would
be willing to bet the old coot was selfish and abusive long before
he got sick. Tris felt sick himself when he realized Maggie might
have been getting hit for years. No wonder she was glad Elroy
wasn’t around more. She was resilient all right. But coming from
this kind of home, maybe she had to pretend to be tough as nails,
even if, underneath, she wasn’t.

Tris flipped the steaks. “How
you like it done?” Jesus, but these steaks smelled good.

“Medium rare on the rare side.
I’m not scared of a little blood.”

“Didn’t think you would be.”
That was just how Tris liked his steak. When the steaks were done
he slapped them on the plates she’d left. Maggie hopped up and put
down the ice pack to bring the plates over to the table. She helped
Tris get his foot up on the third chair. Tris put some dressing on
his salad from the bottle of Catalina on the table. Catalina. Made
him think of The Breakers, a home he’d tried to run away from the
way Maggie couldn’t.

She needed somebody to protect
her. Or maybe she had somebody. “So, who’s Phil?” he asked around a
mouthful of vegetables. Again that confusing feeling made his
stomach roll over.

“Nobody.”

He gave her a skeptical look. “I
doubt that.”

“Old men remember weird things.
Elroy can’t let go of Phil.”

“And Phil is.…”

“Phil
was
my boyfriend my
senior year in high school. Ancient history. Played drums in a
small-time rock and roll band. Used to hang out here some. Guess
that’s why Elroy can’t let him go. I don’t bring friends here, for
obvious reasons.”

So, she didn’t bring men home.
Maybe Elroy’s reaction to Tris was born of a suspicion that Tris
was important to Maggie. Which of course, he wasn’t. He was just
evidence of her soft heart. “So what happened with Phil?”

“Band went to Vegas to make it
playing in small-time casinos.”

Tris chewed his steak. He’d
never tasted anything so good. It was like his taste buds had been
half-asleep all his life. “You didn’t go? That must have been
before Elroy got sick.”

“Phil wanted a clean break, I
guess.” She wasn’t looking at him again.

Tris would have Kemble find this
guy and then Tris would go and personally beat the crap out of him.
The way they all thought he’d beat up that photographer. Maggie
obviously thought she loved this “Phil.” Maybe Tris wanted to beat
the crap out of him for two reasons. Tris didn’t want Maggie loving
some prick musician. And you know the jerk would hurt her. Maybe
dead was better than just beaten to a pulp.

“What about you? You ever get
your heart broken?” She was trying to turn it around on him, so she
wouldn’t be the only one feeling vulnerable.

He wished he could come up with
something to match her story. “Only the kind of heartbreak that
happens when you’re twelve.” He made his tone light.
Don’t let
her know you pity her for being dumped
. Maggie would hate that.
“She was maybe sixteen. Blond and blue eyed, looked too old for her
age. You know the kind a kid falls for. Thought I was gonna die for
twenty minutes maybe when she started going out with the captain of
the basketball team. He went around saying, ‘These are the best
days of our lives.’ ”

She smiled a little. “I know the
type.” She sobered and looked at her plate. “That the last
heartbreak?”

He wouldn’t lie. “Yeah. Guess I
wised up.”

CHAPTER NINE

She might have been his last
heartbreak but she sure as hell wasn’t his last girl. Not looking
like he did.
Tomcat. Love ’em and leave ’em. Danger, Will
Robinson. Remember Phil the Rat.
She didn’t want to remember
Phil the Rat. She’d spent years learning to forget the one true
love that wasn’t. Stupid girl.

Not anymore. Tough as nails.
That’s what she was.

Like tonight, when she’d cried
in front of Mr. Movie-star Biker? Ugh.

Maggie concentrated on her
steak. When had steak tasted this good? Was it just because
somebody else cooked it? But Jake’s steak didn’t make her taste
buds actually sing. This steak sure did. Almost made up for her
swollen cheek.

“Thanks for the book,” he said,
after the silence had stretched until she thought she would break.
“That was you, wasn’t it?”

Here was something safe to talk
about. “Yeah. Good ole James Lee is great, isn’t he?”

“Guy really knows
Louisiana.”

She smiled. “He’s got another
series set in Montana. He knows the cowboy life too.”

And they were on higher ground.
Flood waters receding.

By the time dinner was over,
Maggie was comfortable again, or as comfortable as she could be
around a guy who looked like Tris Tremaine. She washed plates as
they talked. Elroy’s snores echoed from behind the bedroom door,
and knowing that she’d have no more to deal with or to explain on
that front made her breathe easier. Tris knew the worst now. She
grabbed the bottle of whiskey and poured him another shot.

“Nightcap, before you go to
bed.”

“I’m about ready for that. Couch
there looks comfortable.”

It wasn’t. “You are
not
sleeping on the couch when you have broken … everything.”

He glared at her. “I’m not
taking your bed. You’ve already been too kind.”

She just
hated
the fact
that she blushed. “Wasn’t anything.”

“I sure would like to do a more
thorough washing up, though.”

Just then the lights dimmed and
went out. “Elroy must’ve watched a lot of TV.” She moved unerringly
to the Coleman lantern with the matches laid out beside it. “Water
heater will keep hot for a while, though.” The lantern flared. She
turned it down to a dim glow and put it on the counter. “Guess
you’re stuck with just a washcloth. No bath with that cast on.” She
didn’t like what the image of him washing himself all over was
doing to her. Had she ever blushed so much in her life?
Hope he
can’t see it in this light.

“Even that’ll feel good. You go
first.”

She didn’t protest. She had to get out
of here and collect herself. She set the bottle of whiskey beside
him and grabbed a candle and some matches. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s a
good idea.”

*****

Jason stood in the parking lot
of the diner. No one would tell him where Maggie O’Brian’s place
was. The kid on duty at the motel didn’t know her. Jason saw no
sign of a beat-up red pickup truck in the tiny town. He’d gotten
some info about her and her father from the guy at the gas station.
But everyone clammed up when he asked where she lived.

Prentice had called in, more
than a little cranky. No sign of Tremaine and the girl and their
piece-of-shit truck. Had they made it past Prentice? Did they take
some back road in?

Or were they still out at Maggie
O’Brian’s place?

Damn it! He couldn’t start
shaking people down. The old woman didn’t like attention. He was
feeling like a rat in a trap. Maybe he’d pretend to be in the
market for horses. Girl had horses. The general store was still
open.

He strode through the
swinging doors. “Hear Maggie O’Brian has got some fine horseflesh,”
he said to the geezer behind the register. “Now if I could only
find her place.”
General store, my ass.
This whole town
liked to play at being a ghost town from bygone mining days. This
was just a bigger 7-Eleven in an old wood façade.

“
You’d never find it in the
dark,” the geezer said. “But tomorrow morning, you take the
one-lane asphalt south off the second T-bone intersection. Then you
turn right on the dirt road to her place. It ain’t marked,” he
added as an afterthought.

What hicks. The old man was
moving at half speed. “How far down the asphalt road?”

“
Well, let’s see.” The old
coot rubbed his chin. Then he pulled his earlobe. “Eight, nine
mile? Can’t say as I know for sure.”

“
Oh, that’s helpful.” He
wanted to lunge across the wooden counter and strangle the old man.
Instead he spun on his heel. “Any landmarks?”

“
Not so’s you’d
notice.”

Jason strode out over the dark,
creaking floorboards toward the door and the night beyond. The old
woman hadn’t called. But she would. The stupid Talismans wouldn’t
keep her occupied forever. And he still didn’t have Tremaine. His
ulcer gave a lurch and he fumbled for some Tums. Damn things
weren’t doing any good now anyway.

He wasn’t waiting until tomorrow
morning. He’d find O’Brian’s place, if he had to drive down every
dirt road in Lander County.

*****

Tris listened to her run
bathwater, imagining her sitting in that tub with steam rising
around her naked body.
Hello, hard-on.
But he couldn’t stop
the thoughts. He wondered what would have happened if he had kissed
her tonight. He’d probably have a dislocated jaw as well as a bum
leg and a bad shoulder. She wouldn’t want a guy like him. A
stove-up biker with no purpose in life, nothing in common with her
except that they both liked taking chances.

The sound of water sloshing was
clear as she got in. It was like he could hear things he wouldn’t
have heard yesterday. At least when it came to her.

He took a slug of the whiskey.
Christ. This was going to kill him. Had he ever been harder? She
began a nervous little humming.
Think about something
else.

What the hell was the matter
with him? So he wanted her. Why was that so bad? Just kiss her and
let nature take its course. He’d bedded a hundred starlets (not
that he actually kept count—that was crass). And none was the worse
for wear. Neither was he. Just use a condom.

He didn’t have a condom with
him. That’s why he couldn’t consider doing it with her. That and
the fact that he was a physical wreck. Couldn’t do the thing
properly for Maggie with a cast and a sling. He shouldn’t even have
an erection in his condition. That hadn’t stopped his cock in the
hospital and it didn’t stop it now.

But there was another reason he
couldn’t even consider bedding Maggie O’Brian.

She wouldn’t be able to bear to
be bedded and dumped again. That Phil guy had dumped her, and even
her mother had run out on her. Elroy had kinda run out on her too.
And Tris would end up leaving her for sure. After the lust passed,
all you were left with was annoyance and he wasn’t brave enough to
stay in that kind of situation.