Authors: Fern Michaels
Annie's Rainbow (31 page)
“You smell good. Is that your dog?”
The chuckle she heard was deep and rich. “Jake is my dog. He's the one who found you. A nice porterhouse steak would be appreciated when you're feeling better.”
“You got it. He's got it. Whatever.” And then the blackness overcame her again.
“I guess my scent overpowered her again, Jake. She's a bit of a mess right now. I guess we should just take her to the shower and let the water do the rest. What do you think, boy?”
The golden Labrador nudged his master's knee.
“She said I smelled good.” His chuckle was just as rich and deep as the first time. “We'll talk about your disobedience later on, Jake. You know the drill: you go out, you do your business, and you come in and we go to bed. That's the rule. You break the rule and you get no Oreos. You got that?”
“Woof, woof.”
“I'm going to ignore the rule this time because obviously you picked up on this young lady's distress. Wonder what she looks like under all this mud.”
In the kitchen under the blinding fluorescent lighting, Clay Mitchell stared down at the woman in his arms. “Okay, Jake, lead the way to the guest bathroom.” The Lab bounded up the kitchen stairway and down the hall, his master directly behind him.
The bathroom was blue-and-white tile, the shower stall, overly large with a corner seat. Clay had never known the true purpose of the seat. There was one in his own shower, too, but he'd never used it. He sat Annie down carefully, nudging her to wakefulness. She tried to open her eyes, but the thick mud on her lashes made them close again.
“Stay with me, young lady. I'm going to turn on the shower. I think it might be better to wash off the mud first and then you can shower up and wash your hair.”
“You smell good,” Annie said. “My brother smells like you. At first I thought Tom had found me. I did something to my knee. I don't know if I can stand.”
“That's why this seat is in here. I'll adjust the showerhead, and the spray will do the rest. Here, I'll help you with your jacket.” Annie was like a rag doll as her benefactor pulled and tugged at the denim jacket. A hissing sound escaped his lips when he saw the gun in the waistband of her jeans. Annie reached for it and set it on the tile seat next to her.
Clay tossed the muddy jacket into the corner of the shower. He adjusted the showerhead, then closed the door. He heard her voice as he moved about the bathroom. “I'm not a criminal. This gun is for my personal safety. Someone was chasing me.”
“Sounds plausible,” Clay said to Jake, who was up on the bed, trying to turn down the covers. When he succeeded in pulling the blanket from under the pillows, he sat up on his haunches.
“Yeah, yeah. You do good work, Jake. Who in the hell would be chasing someone like her through our fields during one of the worst storms of the year?” He walked over to the window and sat down on the seat. As a kid, this had been his room. He'd sat here trying to figure out the secrets of the universe, and this was where he sat to wait for Santa when he was little. From this same seat he'd wished on the first star so many times he'd lost count. And this was where he'd come when he was punished and confined to his room. Light-years ago. The gun was serious-looking. A Glock, if he wasn't mistaken.
“I need some scissors!”
Jake bounded off the bed and barreled to the bathroom.
“What for?” Clay shouted.
“My knee is too swollen to pull the jeans down. I can't get all the mud off. I could use some help here.”
Help. She wanted him to help her take off her clothes. A decade ago he would have shouted, “I'm your man.” That was before Ann Marie and her death. Now he was nervous and jittery at the thought of seeing a naked woman in his bathroom.
“I don't have any scissors. At least I don't think I do. Will a pocketknife do?”
“I guess so. Listen, I've been trying, but I can't get my clothes off. You have to help me.”
“Listen, I think if you just . . .”
“Are you telling me you won't help me?”
“I'm not saying that. Look, if you don't care, then I don't care. Most women who
drop in
like you do wouldn't want someone seeing their naked body.”
drop in
like you do wouldn't want someone seeing their naked body.”
“Right now, mister . . . what is your name anyway? I don't give a damn if you see my naked body or not. I don't care if your dog sees my naked body. Can we get this show on the road? My knee is killing me.”
“I'm Clay Mitchell. Okay,
let's do it
.”
let's do it
.”
Annie clenched her teeth as Clay's knife ripped through the wet denim. She squealed her relief when the denim broke free of her swollen knee. “Okay, help me with my shirt,” she said, standing up and hobbling about on one foot. “My name is Annie Clark. I like your dog.”
“Just because he saved your life don't go getting any ideas. He's mine.” Everything else in his life had been ripped away from him. Nobody was taking his dog.
“All I said was I liked your dog. Does this gun scare you? What's your problem?”
“I don't have a problem and, no, your gun doesn't scare me.” Perfectly proportioned. Just like Ann Marie. Blond hair. Ann Marie had dark hair. This woman had blue eyes like the bluebells Ann Marie had planted. Ann Marie had green eyes. He wanted to say something smart, something totally outrageous about her lacy underwear. Years ago, before Ann Marie, he wouldn't have had a problem coming up with the right words. He would have been able to make this young woman laugh with his remark. These days he was a stick-in-the-mud, a recluse, a man without a life. She was staring at him, waiting. “That underwear doesn't leave much to the imagination,” he blurted.
That's just what the girls at Victoria's Secret had said. “I think I can handle the rest. Do you have a robe or something I can borrow?”
“I'll hang it on the door. In the meantime I'll get you an ice pack for your knee.” As an afterthought he said, “Do you want something to eat?”
“I think I'm too tired to chew, Mr. Mitchell. I would like something to drink, though. Do you have an extra toothbrush, and I'm going to need a phone.”
“I think I can handle all that. At the Mitchell farm we aim to please.” He wondered if the bedraggled woman would pick up on his sarcasm. It occurred to him, as he walked down the steps, to wonder why his heart was beating so fast. And why he was sweating. And why his dog was still upstairs when he was always at his side. Trust a woman to foul things up and knock everything out of sync.
When Clay marched up the steps forty minutes later with a tray holding a new toothbrush, his portable phone, a tray of double Oreo cookies, and an ice pack, he saw Annie curled up on the bed, nuzzling Jake, who was loving every minute of it.
She sure wasn't beautiful. He wasn't even sure if she was pretty. Her skin was shiny and looked like she'd taken at least two layers of it off when she scrubbed up. The gun was on the pillow next to her. The gun made everything different.
Annie slapped the ice bag on her knee and yelped. “How close is the nearest doctor? Is there anyone who can pull my truck out of the mud? You forgot the aspirin.”
“Gee, did I? Do you suppose I forgot them because you didn't ask for them?”
“Could be,” Annie said, biting into one of the Oreos. She handed one to Jake.
“Your master is a bit testy. I have two big dogs like you. They like Fig Newtons. Thanks for bringing me here, big guy. You know what they say, when you save a person's life you are responsible for them from that day on.”
“That's a myth,” Clay snapped.
“The Chinese don't think so,” Annie said, licking off the frosting between the cookie's layers. Jake eyed them hungrily. Annie handed them over. “I have two German shepherds. This is a beautiful dog. I bet you love him to death.”
“Yeah, I do. Now, do you mind telling me what the hell you were doing in my field at this time of night with a gun in your pants?”
“I told you. Someone was chasing me. How was I supposed to know your field was a sea of mud? I didn't know what his intentions were. I was plain-out scared because no one knew where I was. I wasn't supposed to leave until tomorrow, but I left earlier and didn't call. Then the storm came up, I took the wrong turnoff, and I was low on gas. That's the story.”
“Why was someone chasing you?”
Annie sniffed. “Like I know! Why do perverts do the things they do? I'm assuming you're going to let me stay here tonight. I'll be more than glad to pay you for all the trouble I've been. I just love this dog,” she said sleepily. A minute later she was sound asleep.
Clay picked up the tray. “You stay here, Jake. Come and get me if things change.”
The Lab raised his head just long enough to stare for a second at his master. He woofed softly before he lowered his head to nuzzle Annie's leg.
Clay closed the door halfway. He made his way downstairs to take up his position in front of the television. He knew for a fact there wasn't much on the boob tube at three in the morning. One long arm reached out to the portable bar behind his chair. He popped a Corona and leaned back.
Every night for three long years he'd sat in this chair staring at nothing. Three long years since the knock sounded on his door and the sheriff told him straight out that Ann Marie was dead. Some damn drunk had run her off the road and her car turned over and exploded. Three very long years.
Jake had just been a pup then, but he knew Ann Marie wasn't coming back. He'd cried and whimpered right along with him for all those long nights. Tonight the big Lab had been friskier than he'd seen him since puppyhood.
Why the big gun? Who in the hell is Annie Clark?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
At the first sign of approaching dawn, Clay was off his chair to make his way to the back door. Time to check out Annie Clark's story. A battered Dodge Dakota with close to 200,000 miles on its odometer waited next to a rotting barn. He loved this old vehicle that had once belonged to his brother Bobby. Retired now and living in Key Biscayne, Florida, Bobby and his wife drove a pearl white Cadillac. Bobby had been a star player for the Celtics back then, and he'd just been a young kid learning the game. In most ways his own star had outshone Bobby's when he played with the Lakers. He'd invested almost all of the money he'd earned playing in the NBA. Those investments plus his pension enabled him to live a life of luxury if he chose. Luxury had never been a top priority with him, so he'd chosen to come back here to the farm when he quit the FBI. Retirement at the age of forty-four wasn't at all what he thought it would be. All he did these days was a little gardening, a little cooking, a lot of reading, and a lot of hiking with his dog.
The engine of the battered truck turned over on the first try. He headed out to the main road, where he turned left. All night long he'd tried to figure out just where Annie Clark left the road to cross his fields. Five miles down the road he spotted a dark blue Chevrolet Cavalier nose down in the ditch on the left side of the road. He pulled over to the narrow shoulder. So the lady with the gun was telling the truth. He pushed his Lakers cap back on his head as he stared at the car. No license plate. He didn't know why or how he knew, but he was certain there would be no fingerprints anywhere in this particular car. He hopped the ditch to stare across the field. In the distance he could see a mud-caked all-terrain vehicle, its back end low in the soft mud. Obviously he needed to call Omar's Towing. Service, and the sheriff as well, if Annie Clark gave the okay. For some reason she didn't seem the type to want strangers knowing her business. Satisfied that her story checked out, Clay climbed into his truck and headed back to the farm.
Jake was waiting for him on the back steps. He tussled with him for a few moments before entering the house. “So, how's our guest? Guess it's time for coffee. The lady had meat on her bones, so I'd say that warrants breakfast. Bet you could go for some bacon and eggs. Come on, boy, kitchen duty calls, but first I think we need to check on our guest.”
Jake raced up the back staircase and stood panting outside the door of Annie's room. She was awake, propped up on the pillows.
“How's your knee?”
“It's not as swollen as it was last night. It throbs. Can I trouble you for some more aspirin?”
“Have you been up yet?”
“I can't put any weight on it if that's what you mean. I can hop around on my right foot, though. Enough to let your dog out and get back up here. If you can get someone to pull my truck out of the mud, I think I can make it back home.”
“That probably isn't a good idea. I'm going to call Henry Masterson. He's our local doctor, and he makes house calls. However, he doesn't like to be called before seven-thirty. It's just that now. I'll get you some clothes and help you downstairs.”
“I don't know how to thank you, Mr. Mitchell.”
“My name is Clay. Mr. Mitchell was my father. Are you hungry?”
“I'm starving. Anything will be fine. I hate to keep troubling you.”
“I'm afraid I'm not a very good host. I don't get much company way out here in the country.”
“Why is that, Mr . . . Clay?”
“People gave up on me a while back. Okay, here's some shorts and a shirt. If you wait here, I think I know where there are some scissors. I'll call the doctor and be back up to help you down the steps.” He returned moments later with a pair of orange-handled scissors.
“Sounds good,” Annie said, eyeing the clothes Clay laid on the bed. Women's clothes. They looked like they would fit, too. She wondered whom they belonged to. She asked.
“They used to belong to my wife,” Clay said curtly.
“Oh,” was all Annie could think of to say.
“She was killed by a drunk driver three years ago. How do you like your eggs?”
“Over easy. I'll take three. Do you make hash browns? If you do, I like onions and peppers in mine.”
“That's how they serve them at Millie's Café in town. She doesn't charge extra for the grease, either.”
Annie laughed. “Guess that means we aren't having hash browns.”
Jake threw his head back and howled.
“Now you've done it. He won't be happy unless I make the whole nine yards. This dog is smart. He eats what I eat. Boy, does he like Boston cream pie. Minus the chocolate. Chocolate isn't good for dogs.”
“I know. Mine eat people food, too. The vet has a fit. They're healthy and happy, and that's all I care about. Oreos are chocolate, Clay.”
“Yeah, I know. He only gets them once in a while. He's kind of partial to Pecan Sandies. I'll make the call and be back.”
“You know what, Jake,” Annie whispered to the dog. “He's a curmudgeon but kind of nice. It's hard when you lose someone you love. I guess you miss her, too, don't you, big guy?” Jake whimpered. “I wish you could talk. I owe you my life. I guess you kind of know that, don't you?” Jake whimpered again.
“So what do you think?” Jake continued to whimper. “Ah, I get it. Her scent is still in these clothes, eh? Okay, we can fix that right away.” Annie pulled off the shorts and shirt and slipped back into Clay's robe. “Howzat?”
“Woof.”
“Gotcha,” Annie said, tickling the big dog behind the ears.
“Didn't the clothes fit?” Clay said from the doorway.
“Actually they did, but Jake didn't seem to want me to wear them. I guess maybe your wife's scent is still in them. It's okay. If you get someone to pull out my car, I have things in the cargo area. I'll just stay in the robe if you don't mind.”
“The doctor is on the way, and so is Omar. He's going to tow your truck here. An hour at the most. By the way, as soon as it got light out, I drove down the road to see if I could spot your truck. There's a Chevy stuck in the ditch, nose down. No license plate. Door was locked. The sheriff will have to decide what to do about it.”
Annie nodded. “It smells good. I think frying onions and peppers smell better than perfume. Guess you're making hash browns, huh?”
“Jake likes them. You like them. I like them. So, I said to myself, what the hell, I had everything in the fridge, so we're having hash browns.”
“I hear a car.”
“It's probably Henry. He likes hash browns, too.”
Thirty minutes later, Annie stared at the old doctor in dismay. “You want me to stay off my leg for forty-eight hours? Can't you bandage up my knee? I have to get home, I really do. I'll keep ice on it.”
“The answer's no. You stay off that leg.”
“What if I find someone willing to drive my truck to Charleston? I could stay in the back with my leg up.”
“That would be okay. Sorry, Clay, I can't stay for breakfast. Leroy Adams broke his collarbone yesterday, and I need to check on him. Mind me now, Missy Clark.”
When the screen door slammed behind the doctor, Annie asked, “Do you know anyone I could hire to drive me home?”
“No. I'll do it.”
“Oh, no, I can't expect you to do that. How will you get home?”
“Don't you know someone who could drive me back?”
Annie burst out laughing. “I might know someone. Are you sure you don't mind?”
“I'm a little tired of watching the grass grow. I haven't been to Charleston in a long time. Might do Jake and me some good to get out and about.”
“Any other time, I wouldn't care but it's my goddaughter's birthday tomorrow, and I have to go to the airport to pick up her gift.”
“It must be pretty special.”
“It is.” Annie told him Jane and Daisy's story.
“What a bastard! For sure I'll drive you. You really think this little Teacup Yorkie is going to do the trick where the little girl is concerned, huh?”
“You bet I do. Animals are the best cure for physical and mental problems that I know of. Look at you and Jake. What would you have done without him? Rosie and Harry got me through some bad times. Daisy needs someone to love. Someone to love her unconditionally. The pup will be just for her, and it's only going to weigh around five pounds. It will be her own special bundle of love. Child and dog. What could be better? When she gets home from school, he'll be waiting for her. He'll sleep at the foot of her bed if he's not on her pillow. I want it to work for that little girl. I want her to have happy memories. The ones concerning her father are not happy at all. Most likely those memories will fade in time, but they'll always be there in the background. The dog will make it easier to bear. She did well at camp for the most part, but she isn't over the hump.”
“You're absolutely right. I'll drive you.” Clay's voice said he wasn't taking no for an answer. “You know, if you eat all that, you won't have to worry about moving. You won't be able to stand up, much less move.”
“I eat like this all the time. I have a great metabolism. Tell me about you, Clay. Do you farm here? What do you grow?”
“Weeds. I retired here. I played basketball in college and was good enough to be drafted by the Lakers. When rheumatoid arthritis cut my career short, I joined the FBI. I may have been the oldest rookie agent in the Bureau. When I got tired of chasing the bad guys, I came back to the farm because my wife wanted to live here. She died six months after we got here. She had this grand plan to raise melons. She had a green thumb. We were going to have a few chickens, a milk cow, and two horses. Both of us liked to ride. We had it all planned out. Winters we were both going to teach at Chapel Hill. Spring and summers would be spent here at the farm. It just never got off the ground the way most dreams do. I made megadollars and invested wisely. Was an All-Star six years running. Money still comes in from all the endorsements I did back then. The first year and a half is pretty much a blur. My snoot was in the bottle most of the time. Jake took care of me. He really did. Henry stopped by once or twice a week and brought food his wife cooked. I can't remember if I ate it or not. Then one day, Jake got sick. That woke me up in a hell of a hurry. That's the end of my story. What's yours? I'd really like to know why someone who looks like you packs a serious gun like a Glock. I would have thought a twenty-two would be more to your liking. Remember, I was a Special Agent. I know about stuff like that.”
Annie felt her heart rate accelerate. Just her luck to meet up with an FBI agent. “I told you, I spend a lot of time on the road. My brother and Elmo made me get the gun. I know how to shoot. I'm not sure if I could kill anyone or not. I know the rule is if you pull out a gun you better be prepared to shoot. I'd probably aim for the kneecap.”
“What do you do that you're on the road?”
“I check on my stores. Make sure everything is running smoothly. I like to stay personal and up close with my employees.”
“What kind of stores?”
“Coffee shops. I have one in Chapel Hill. They're called Daisy Shops.”
“Jesus, you're kidding! Ann Marie loved that place. We went to Chapel Hill before we moved here to set things up. In one week's time I don't think 1 ever ate so many tuna sandwiches and brownies or drank so much coffee. You own those, huh?”
“Yeah. We're going to start franchising them. Elmo is working on it, and so is my brother. My friend Jane is back in the fold, too. We're also going to start selling coffee by the pound.”
“Who's Elmo?”
“He's a wonderful friend who's been like a father to Jane and me. He's also very sick right now,” Annie said with a catch in her voice.
“I read about you in the Sunday papers a few times. I thought you looked vaguely familiar. You were voted Businesswoman of the Year a few years running, weren't you?” Annie nodded. “Ann Marie thought it was wonderful the way you started up your business on a shoestring. I think you would have liked her.”
“I'm sure I would have.”
“There's more, isn't there?” Clay asked.
“More what?”
“More than you're telling me.”
“No, that's pretty much it. Unless you mean about my personal life. I was more or less engaged to be engaged and maybe married. It didn't work out. Not that it's any of your business.”
“Why didn't it work out?”
“Are you writing a book or something? My personal life is no one's business.”
“Are you hiding something? Are you ashamed of something? It's a simple question. Most people would ask it out of concern for you, which is what I just did.”
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