Dead Running (20 page)

The closer Damon’s lips got the quicker my mouth moved. “Yes, you’re definitely the lucky one. But then I’m the luckiest one. Both of us are, I believe. Lucky, lucky, lucky.”

“Cassie,” Damon said, his breath warming my lips like hot cocoa on a snowy day. He was that close to me. I fought the urge to scream that I wasn’t ready to kiss him and laugh with sheer delight.

“What?” I asked.

“Shut up.”

I laughed. “I guess I deserve that after telling you to shut up on our first run.”

“Now,” he said.

“Right now?”

I watched his lips cover the last few centimeters. The instant of contact was better than anything I’d experienced in longer than a year. The spice of his cologne. The warm night surrounding us. His arms caressing my back. His firm lips demanding a response. I pictured his brown eyes, the way his dark hair curled around his ear, and his cheek crinkling when he smiled.

Oh, no! How could I be thinking of Jesse while kissing Damon? I tried to clear the image but couldn’t do it. Pulling away, I caught small, quick breaths.

Damon leaned back and stared at me. “You okay?”

I wrapped my arms around my waist. “Fine, thanks.”

Damon’s eyes darkened to midnight. He jammed a hand through his short hair. “Not the usual response to a first kiss.”

My head snapped up. “There was nothing wrong with the kiss.” There was something wrong with me.

“I’m sorry, Cassie. I was under the assumption that you were interested in me.”
           
“Interested?” I guffawed. “Of course I’m interested. What lipstick-wearing, romance-reading female wouldn’t be interested in you? The kiss was amazing.”

Damon’s lips split into a grin. “You
did
like it?”

“Of course I liked it.” I had liked it. Damon was real. Damon was here. Maybe if we tried again. “Just slow down next time.”

“I thought I went pretty slow the first time.” His eyes twinkled. “But you’re telling me there’s going to be a next time?”

I sidled closer to him. “Yeah.”

“When is this next time going to happen?”

“I thought within the next half-second would be good.”

“The next half-second?”

I grinned at him. “Shut up and kiss me already.”

Damon chuckled. “Hey, that’s my line.”

I grabbed him and pressed my lips to his, praying this time I could concentrate on the right man.
  

Slipping some clogs onto my feet, I was out the door before I remembered my grandmother. I hurried to the entry of her bedroom and called through the open doorway, “Nana, I’m going to help Raquel for a while.”

She banged on the door of her master bath. “I’m in here.”

“I guessed that.” I leaned into the doorjamb, tapping my short nails against the grainy wood. “Do you need anything while I’m out? I could run to the store after I leave Raquel’s.”

“No. You always buy too much lettuce and junk. I’ll go tomorrow. Would you bring in the mail though? I hate that slobbery Phillips’ dog yapping at me every time I get it.”

“Okay.” Utah’s summers may be dry, but I still began to sweat twenty seconds after my forehead hit the sunshine. I grabbed the mail from the box, inhaling the scent of the neighbor’s rose bushes and ignoring their yipping puppy. I shuffled through the mail as I raced back to the coolness of the front porch. Credit card offers. Letter from Nana’s sister. Scary. Aunt Ella was almost ornerier than Nana. Electricity bill. A letter for me?

I stopped next to the screen door, examining the white envelope. No return address. Postmarked in Mexico City. My heart leapt a few inches in my chest. Mom and Dad had been killed in Mexico City.
 

I dropped the rest of the mail onto the porch swing and ripped the envelope open. Inside was a single typed sheet.

Dear Cassidy,

Didn’t want you to think I had forgotten about you. Thank you for helping us trap your father. Don’t forget the promise you made to me. You will tell no one about our meeting.

If anything goes wrong. If your father has any indication that we are waiting for him, you know who I’m coming after. What fun that will be.

Hoping to see you again,

Muscle Man

P.S. I like the nickname you gave me.

I read the note several times. My fingers trembled so horribly I could barely make out the words on the last reading. Muscle Man. Checking in to renew his threats. I shivered. At least he was in Mexico. Hopefully. I looked at the postmark. Four days ago. He could be here now. Would he really come for me?

My gut clenched. Sweat ran down my chest. I wiped more wetness from my forehead and clutched the letter until it crumpled.

Should I tell Detective Shine and Fine? What could they do besides refer me to the FBI? The last FBI agents we’d dealt with had chalked my parents’ deaths up to the unrest in Mexico. They wouldn’t believe me if I said I had proof of the man who’d killed my father. They wouldn't do anything to protect the poor man that Muscle Man was hunting. All I’d accomplish by squealing to the police or FBI was Muscle Man fulfilling his threats. My entire body shuddered. I had to be more careful what I said. What if Nana or Raquel suspected something had happened?

“Cassidy?” Nana yelled. “What did you get in the mail? Some love letter from Damon?”

I folded the note and envelope and shoved them in my back pocket. Pushing through the front door, I handed Nana the rest of the mail. “Nothing too exciting,” I said.

Nana eyed me suspiciously from her chair. “What about that letter you were gooing over on the front porch?”

“Letter?”
Gooing?
She completely misinterpreted my expression. Dying. Trembling in fear. Definitely not gooing.

“I saw you reading some letter. Who was it from? Why are you so flushed? Go get a drink of water then I want some explainin’.”

I rushed into the kitchen, guzzled a cool glass of water and splashed some on my face.

“Get in here," Nana called, "and tell me who that letter was from.”

I stuttered back to the living room. I was an adult. Nana wasn’t getting this letter from me. I wouldn't give Muscle Man any reason to come back.

I faced her squarely, anything less would’ve caused suspicion. “It was from Thomas Rendenhall. You remember him?”

“That boy you dated who went off to medical school?” She’d resumed clicking needles, another afghan on the assembly line.

“That’s right.”

“Thomas Rendenhall.” Nana harrumphed and clucked her tongue at the same time. “I wasn’t a fan. Smart but a bit pompous.” She arched an eyebrow. “And not as good-looking as Damon.”

“No.”

“Or as nice.”

“No.” But speaking of doctors had me thinking of Jesse instead of Damon. I reddened imagining how Nana would react to him.

Nana’s eyes narrowed. “But Thomas may have been smarter. What’s Damon do for work?”

I sighed. “I’ve told you before.” When you gave me the “boys just want one thing” lecture before our first date.

Nana’s eyes narrowed. “Well tell me again. I’m getting old and senile.”

“I wish,” I muttered, picking at a loose thread on the afghan hanging on the wooden rocker by the door.

“Speak up, girl, and stop unraveling my work.”

My hands snapped to my sides. “Damon is a financial planner. He has clients throughout the country and travels a lot.” Even though Nana was grilling me, I started to breathe easier. She was past questioning on the letter and onto lecturing me about mumbling and ruining her afghan.

She tilted her head. “Well, that could be good, but not quite as good as a doctor. I love doctors.”

I nodded that I knew. Her husband and favorite son had both been renowned surgeonsbefore Grandpa died of a heart attack and Daddy was murdered. No. I wasn’t looking for a doctor. I battled with Jesse’s image in my brain. I needed to push him out. No reason to follow family tradition there.

“What did Teddy want? He want you back?”

“Thomas,” I corrected then shrugged. “He didn’t say. Just trying to keep in touch, I think.”

Nana clicked her needle against the wooden armrest of her floral chair. “Well. It’s impressive to me that he didn’t just Facebook you or something silly like that.”

I grinned. “Didn’t know you knew what Facebook was.”

She swatted with her needle, pulling several stitches out of the afghan. Grunting, she waved me away with the same needle. “Get out of here. You need to go help Raquelly. You coming back for dinner?”

“No. I’ll eat with Jared and El.”

“Figures,” Nana muttered. “You and Raquel can eat your health junk together for all I care.”

I hurried from the house, grateful Nana had bought my lie and sick that I was still a part of Muscle Man’s memory. The letter in my back pocket burned through my pants to the underlying skin. Was there anything I could do to protect myself?

*
         
*
         
*

“I don’t look like I’ve lost a darned pound!”

Damon and I walked out of The Cache Valley Mall towards his car. He needed some new dress shirts for work and I was only too happy to spend time with him. But all the mirrors by the dressing rooms had convinced me that my marathon weight loss was on a plateau. Just five pounds lighter and I’d be content.

Damon cocked his head and let his eyes rove my body. “Why do you want to lose weight?”

“Because I’m too big!”

“I like the way you look.” He opened the passenger door and I slid in.

I waited until he settled into his seat before saying, “You like fat women?”

He shrugged. “Guess I do.”

“Agh,” I grunted. “Way wrong answer.”

“What?” Instead of starting the car, he pivoted in his seat to face me.

“You’re supposed to convince me of how thin I am. You’re supposed to convince me that I don’t need to lose a quarter of a pound, let alone a whole one.”

A bemused smile crossed his face. He folded his arms over his chest and said, “You know I love this. You explain exactly how it’s supposed to be. None of these guessing games, trying to figure out what my woman wants. You lay it all out there for me.”

I tingled all over at him calling me
his
woman. Damon was almost too good to be true. He liked my bluntness, what a relief to not have to play stupid dating games. “Well, I’m so glad you like it. Now get to work!”

His eyes twinkled. “Get to work on what?”

“Ugh,” I grunted again. “Do I have to always spell it out? You need to convince me how perfect I am.” I beckoned him with a hand. “Make it good and gushy now.”

Damon laughed. No, laugh isn’t strong enough. He cackled. For a full minute. I timed him. That’s how annoyed I was. Then he leaned across the console of his car, took me in his arms as best he could, and said, “You’re perfect.”

I blushed and looked away, forgetting all about my annoyance. “My thighs are too big.”

“The most perfect thighs in the world. You should never lose a pound.”
           
“Quarter of a pound,” I reminded him.

“You should never lose a quarter of a pound,” he said. “Actually, you should gain some weight.”

“No, no, no.” I leaned back in his embrace. “Now you’re pushing it too far. There’s a delicate bal”

His lips cut off my protests. Several minutes later my head was whirling. Damon broke off the kiss and cupped my face with his hand. “Anything else I need to say or do?”

I grinned. “Yeah, kiss me again.”

He complied so quickly I forgot about my weight gain.

*
         
*
         
*

Yanking weeds out by the fistful, I cringed as another dribble of sweat ran down my back. Normally I did yard work in the morning, but my running schedule messed that up and Nana was getting fed up with the condition of her flowerbeds. “Should make her get out and weed them her own dang self,” I muttered.