Authors: Janet Dailey
Bannon Brothers (24 page)
“Didn't mean to wake you!”
Bannon swore again and ran for his car.
CHAPTER 13
B
annon drove at top speed down the narrow road to Erin's house, skidding over ruts and slick spots. Dark clouds were drifting over the Blue Ridge, spitting cold rain that hadn't been falling in Wainsville. His car bounced over a rise and slammed down again. The axles were taking a hell of a beating. He didn't care.
annon drove at top speed down the narrow road to Erin's house, skidding over ruts and slick spots. Dark clouds were drifting over the Blue Ridge, spitting cold rain that hadn't been falling in Wainsville. His car bounced over a rise and slammed down again. The axles were taking a hell of a beating. He didn't care.
On the way here he'd blown right past a highway patrolman who'd pulled over a couple of lowlifes in a battered van. The officer hadn't had a chance to call him in, let alone stop him. Bannon was going that fast.
He gouged out deep ruts of his own as he came to a swerving stop on the wet ground of her front yard, positioning the passenger side parallel to the house. With luck, the car would take the first bullets if anyone had him in their sights. Bannon barely paused to draw breath as he pulled his gun and scrambled out, head down, scanning the house and the land around it through the window.
Empty.
Which didn't meanâ
Erin opened the door and peered around it, holding on to Charlie's collar. Bannon lowered his gun but stood tall, even though he was ready to drop to his knees and give thanks she was alive. He'd imagined the worst.
“He's gone,” she said in a shaky voice.
Bannon wasn't so sure. His reply was almost a whisper. “Do what I told you. Get back inside and stay the hell down.” He gestured to Charlie. “Keep him between you and trouble.”
Erin opened her mouth as if she was about to protest but thought better of it. Charlie kept his shoulder to her knee, guiding her. He was a damn good dog.
She left the door ajar. He could jump up there and slam it, or go for a walk.
Bannon walked, taking it nice and slow. Going around the first corner was no fun, but he did it. The second was easier. The third corner revealed blurry footprints in the tangled mix of grass and mud outside Erin's bedroom window. He glanced down, not squatting in case someone was planning to catch him off balance and whack him for all eternity.
The rain wasn't letting up and the blurred footprints didn't tell him much. He guessed that the prowler had long feet. That wouldn't put anybody in jail.
But then, whoever was behind this attempt to break in to Erin's house most likely would never see the inside of a jail. Because someone else was behind the lone man who'd threatened Erinâevery instinct Bannon possessed told him that. He had a few ideas. Could be a cop on the takeâor the chief himself. Bannon had been connecting some more dots all the way out here and the way he saw it, reporting what had happened here to the police wasn't looking like the best option.
He looked up at the windowsills of the old house. They were close to six feet above ground level. The thug was tall, if he'd been able to look in like she'd said.
There was the broken pane. Rain-spattered shards lay on the ground where the glass had exploded outward from the force of the big dog's lunge at the window.
The footprints ran out from the house, dug deep at the toeâBannon squinted at the double line of prints until they got too small to see. The prowler had gone back the way he'd come, into the forest that clung to the looming mountains. Bannon's gaze moved back to the ground surrounding the house. The footprints closer in were well spaced and far apart. Bannon guessed the man was lanky. Maybe a long-distance runner, maybe ex-military. There was something disciplined about the evenness of the stride.
Skip it for now, Sherlock,
he told himself. He could just about hear Doris's crisp voice saying the words in his mind. The fourth corner of Erin's little house was coming up.
he told himself. He could just about hear Doris's crisp voice saying the words in his mind. The fourth corner of Erin's little house was coming up.
Bannon swallowed hard and stepped around it, gun braced in both hands. No one was there.
He bounded up onto the porch, pushing the door open long enough to get inside himself, then slamming it shut and locking it.
Erin had squeezed herself and Charlie into a corner. Actually, the dog was in front of her. He looked up at Bannon but didn't move.
Bannon made a mental note to thank Linc's girlfriend ten times over. Karen, or whatever her real name was, had trained the big black dog unbelievably well. He holstered the Glock and gave Erin a hand up.
“I did a perimeter check. We're alone.”
“Gee whiz. Sounds romantic.” She dusted off the back of her jeans, then stuck her hands in the front pockets. Bannon looked her over. He was waiting for the shock to wear off.
Her casual tone didn't fool him. Granted, she didn't seem like the sob-and-scream type. But she would crack one way or another. Bannon wasn't going anywhere until the fear she was holding back surfaced.
His being here could trigger it. That was the reason he didn't take her in his arms and tell her something stupid like everything was going to be all right. Maybe it would be someday, but it wasn't now.
It felt strange as hell to be standing here again, as if he and the prowler had something in common. Only yesterday, sneaking a copy of her birth certificate and that card hadn't bothered him enough to stop him from doing it.
As for what he'd found out from the hospital clerkâlater for that. Much later. Even if it turned out to have something to do with what had just happened.
Bannon had something to say that she wasn't going to like: She couldn't stay in this isolated little house after today. She was going home with him. Charlie too.
He had to figure out what was going on and get a chance to straighten out the bad guys. Or take them out before they found her again. And oh yeahâfound him too, for starting all this. He had to have been watched the time he'd come here to walk Charlie. He'd relaxed his guard some. Maybe the watcher had tailed him to the hospital somehow, even observed his interaction with the clerk. Then seen Bannon's bribe and raised it to a hundred to find out what he was asking for after he was gone. The scenario was unlikely but not impossibleâBannon tripped up sometimes, everyone did. The most dangerous state of mind was thinking you'd gotten too good to fail. He had. He was leading someone to Erin. His hand moved to his gun. Not a problem solver. But it was there.
“It's not good, Erin,” he replied. “Even though it looks like your prowler headed for the hills.”
“Should I call the sheriff?”
Bannon shot her a quizzical look. “I assume there's a reason you didn't.”
He could come up with one of his own: Hoebel had begun his career in a little town that was more or less in between where she lived and where he lived. There was no doubt in Bannon's mind that the chief could call in favors. There were always a few cops who were happy to do dirty work on the side, especially if it paid better than overtime.
“The friend who rented me this place didn't think too highly of him or the deputies.”
“How long was she living here?”
“Seven years,” Erin replied.
“Then she would know.”
“I guess.”
“Did you see the guy's face?” he asked after a few seconds.
“No.” She moved into the kitchen, reaching for a zip-locked plastic bag and opening it, pulling out a dog biscuit. She tossed it at Charlie. “Thanks for saving my life.” The big dog snapped the boneshaped snack out of the air. “You're welcome. It's the least I can do.”
Her voice was cracking.
The dog swallowed it in a couple of bites and gave Bannon a what-now look as Erin found a chair for him and one for herself. She had to do something and it didn't have to be rational. She set the chairs in the middle of the floor, like they were about to have afternoon tea at an imaginary table. He noticed how hard she gripped the wood.
Here it came. Meltdown. He'd seen it before. A female cop usually took over at this point, when there was one around.
Erin didn't sit, but went to the sink. She picked up a can of cleanser and shook half of it into the sink, running a little water over the scattered powder. Then she scrubbed. And scrubbed and scrubbed, until the sponge was in tatters. Her hands had to be raw.
Bannon stood by and let her do what she needed to do.
He wanted to go to her.
Breathing hard, she stopped her circular motions and turned on the cold faucet full blast, rinsing the powder and tiny scraps from the sponge down the drain. Then she held her hands under the water until they were red, staring fixedly into the swirling water in the sink.
He had to do something. Bannon went over and turned the faucet off, handing her a dish towel, deliberately not making eye contact. Then her legs began to buckle.
Bannon caught her before she fell, wrapping her in his arms and letting her take out her fury and fear on him. At least a minute ticked by as she hammered at his chest, and she hit hard. Bannon took the punishment for the man who'd stalked her and found her. He held her close, outwardly calm until her raging emotions began to subside. She didn't have to know that he considered himself to blame for putting her in harm's way.
He should have been here. Next timeâhell. There wasn't going to be a next time. He'd keep her safe.
When she lifted her face to his gaze, his heart damn near broke. Swollen and blotchy were his new words for beautiful and strong. Bannon pressed his lips together to keep from kissing her.
“IâI guess I'm done,” she murmured. “No guarantees, though.”
“Punch me some more. Whatever it takes.”
She managed a wan smile that didn't last long. “No. Sorry. Did I hurt you?”
“A couple of times, yeah, you actually did. You're tougher than I thought, Erin.”
She shook her head. “I don't think so. But I would have gone for the guy with the hammer.”
Charlie came over to her and brushed against her leg, then stayed there.
“Glad he was here. I can't tell you how glad,” Bannon said flatly.
“I'm not sure I'm going to be able to give him back.”
“Ahâ” Bannon hesitated. “We can talk about that some other time. He's yours for as long as you need him.”
She nodded and turned toward her bedroom. “That's good to know.” Then she stopped and looked back toward Bannon, her blue eyes huge and vulnerable. “I can't go in there. I just can't.”
“You don't have to. What do you need?”
“Clothes. I want to change,” she said weakly.
“I'll bring some things out.” Bannon took her by the shoulders and used a little body language to get her to sit down in one of the chairs.
“I guess I should shower first,” he heard her say as he went into the bedroom. He looked over his shoulder. She'd gotten up and was pacing.
“You can do both at my place.”
She waited a beat before replying with a distracted “What?”
“You're staying with me. Where else are you going to go?”
He grabbed armfuls of clean, sweet-Erin-smelling jeans and tops and socks and bras and panties from random places. Then he went back to where she was.
“Hadn't thought about it. Heyâ” She came over and picked up a few items. “There's enough here for a month.”
“Yeah. I'm giving you the bedroom. I'm taking the couch. Got a duffel bag or something?”
She gave him a dazed look. “Somewhere.”
“Don't forget to bring your art supplies. You can pack those yourself. And don't worry about being in my place alone if I'm not there. It's secure. My brother rigged a system for me. Flip a switch, you're safe. And there are neighbors.” He couldn't think of their names. Not a selling point.
“Bannonâ”
She was bent over and reaching into a lower shelf. She dragged out a gigantic duffel bag that would hold everything in his arms and then some.
“One more thing. Don't argue.”
Erin unzipped the bag. “I'm not sure this is the right thing to do.”
“It's not permanent. But you can't stay here.” He dumped the armload of clothes into the bag and she zipped it right back up, her mouth set in an unhappy line.
Â
A short-order cook flipped the last pancake onto a plated stack and let the roadhouse waitress take it away. She brought the breakfast order to a lanky man slouched with his hands in his jacket pockets, the solitary occupant of a booth with two place settings. “Syrup?”
He nodded without looking at her. She took a couple of steps over to a condiments-and-cutlery station and got it for him.
“I guess you want to get started on that before your friend gets here.”
He didn't answer, not picking up the cup of coffee she'd provided a few minutes ago, only staring at the wall opposite him.
“Let me know if you need anything.” The woman walked away. This time his eyes followed her, blinking at every swish of her pleated skirt.
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