Falling for Owen (26 page)

“What’s that? Never do that to you again.”

“No. Please do that to me again.”

“You’re too good to be true.” He let out a pent-up breath and waited for her to finish.

“Owen, there is no comparison between you and the asshole. Maybe at first I was looking for them, but now, I just see you. You are who I want to be with. You are the one who makes me happy. You are not an asshole.”

He couldn’t help himself; he laughed. “Thanks.” He wrapped his arm around her neck and drew her close. “How about another shower, and then we crash on the couch and watch the new Bond movie.”

“Daniel Craig. Now that’s a plan I can get behind,” she teased, making him laugh even more.

“Way too good to be true.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

O
WEN DROVE THE
road out of town toward home with Claire snuggled against his side. He rested his arm around her shoulders and held her hand, her fingers twined with his at her shoulder. He loved the way she leaned her head against him.

Late Thursday night, he couldn’t wait to spend another weekend with her at his place. It had become their habit over the last month, ever since that first Saturday she came for dinner and stayed until he took her home early Monday morning on his way to work.

“You’re late feeding the horses.”

“I asked Brody to go by and take care of it, so I could take you out to dinner.”

“You’re spoiling me.”

“Not possible.”

He hugged her closer to his side, thinking of all they’d been through the last five weeks. God, had it only been that long? He’d known her longer than that, but not this way. Not with this much feeling and depth filling him up every time he saw her. They had a late lunch every day at his office. They spent most nights either at his place or hers. He hated the nights he slept alone.

More and more, his worry for her grew. Especially when she wasn’t with him. After the incident with her slashed tires came the vandalism at her shop. Someone spray-painted the word
BITCH
on the wall at the back of the shop where she parked. Things remained quiet for a few days, until she came home one night to find her house egged. Tonight, they left the restaurant and found the passenger side of his truck keyed, the paint scratched and gouged. Again, they called the cops to report the vandalism. Frustrated, Claire went quiet on him. The cops remained vigilant, thanks to his sheriff cousin, Dylan, sending cars by Claire’s shop and home on a regular basis. Nothing they did yielded any results, pissing him off. How hard could it be to find one man? Even more strange, the acts themselves seemed juvenile. If he didn’t know better, he’d think a bunch of teenage hoodlums were harassing them, and not some hothead wife beater.

His stomach tied in knots thinking about everything. He rolled his head to alleviate some of the ache in his tense muscles.

The original attack seemed more in line with Dale’s MO. Not this petty crap. If his goal had been to keep him from seeing Shannon, by now he should know he and Claire spent all their free time together. Why the fuck didn’t he leave them alone?

Still, he’d seen Shannon several times over the last weeks. She’d called the cops to her house three times to say Dale had come by, banging on the door, trying to get her to let him in. Her nearest neighbor lived a hundred yards away. In her seventies, she wore hearing aids and listened to the TV turned up to max volume. Not a great witness to tell them where Dale went and if he’d changed vehicles, making it that much harder to find him.

Shannon remained on the fringes of his life, asking him to help renew the expired restraining order. Like any judge would deny the threat against her or Claire. He’d gone through the motions and filed the papers, presenting his case. Still, it did nothing, because Dale remained elusive.

Owen wanted to tear the guy to shreds for tormenting Claire and Shannon. He hated the fear and hesitation in Claire every time she went to work or came home. The two places she should feel safe. Dale had taken that from her. Owen would make him pay.

If Dylan didn’t find him and arrest him, Owen would hunt him down and beat it into Dale that you do not hurt and terrorize women.

His cell phone rang. The dashboard clock read ten fourteen. Still about five miles from home, he pulled the phone from his pocket and handed it to Claire. He drove, and she swiped the screen.

“Please tell me it’s Brody or Rain calling.”

“It’s Dylan.”

“Of course it is.”

Claire tapped the screen to accept the call and hit the
SPEAKER
button.

“Tell me you have him in custody.” Owen waited for the inevitable bad news. Because he knew they weren’t going to make it home, he pulled off the road onto the dirt shoulder and threw the truck into park.

“Shannon’s been assaulted,” Dylan said. “She’s banged up, but okay.”

“And you have Dale in custody, right?”

“He was gone before we got here. He came in through the back door.”

“How is that possible? She’s vigilant about locking up.”

“She took the garbage out, came back in, and forgot to lock the door. She switched the lights off in the kitchen and headed off to bed. By the time she remembered the door, she went back to the kitchen to lock it, and Dale caught her in the living room. She begged him to leave. They got into an argument.”

“He hit her. How bad?”

Owen gave Claire a look and she nodded her agreement. On the same page, he turned the truck around and headed back to town to check on Shannon in person. He needed to see her, talk to her, and find out as much information as he could about Dale. This had to end. Even the smallest clue could lead them to Dale. That’s all he needed, that one thing that would be Dale’s downfall.

“EMTs took her to the hospital. She’s got some bruises and cuts on her forehead. Dale slammed her face into the tile counter. I’ve got officers checking local bars and other places he’s known to frequent. We’ve checked with known associates and his family. No one has heard or seen him. Wherever he’s been holed up, it’s not in this county.”

“Then try surrounding counties. Find the bastard before he kills someone.” Owen spoke his worst fear. The words thickened the silence in the truck. Claire sat straight and rigid six inches away from him, staring out the windshield. His chilling demand made her turn away.

“We’re working on it.”

“It’s been weeks. He’s got to be close enough to slip into town and out to Claire’s house easily and still get away. He’s not a fucking brainiac. He’s a drunk hothead. How the hell does he keep getting away with this shit?”

“You know how things go. He went into the joint a criminal and came out a better criminal. Either he’s got someone helping him, or he’s learned a few things about evading. His perfect timing can’t hold up forever. He’s going to make a mistake. We’ll get him.”

“You better fucking get him before I do.”

Claire’s hand settled on his thigh and squeezed. He put his hand over hers and took a deep breath to calm down.

“You know better than to make threats, counselor. Let me do my job.”

“Do it better.” Owen hit the
END CALL
button on his phone. “Fuck.” He slammed the heel of his hand down on the steering wheel. Claire didn’t remove her hand, but rubbed it up and down his leg, coaxing him to relax. Well, damnit, he didn’t want to relax. He wanted to punch something. Preferably Dale’s fucking face.

“It’s not Dylan’s fault,” Claire said.

He sucked in another deep breath and let it out. “I know that. I’m just so damn frustrated. He hurt her again.”

This time she did take her hand away and everything inside him went cold. She scooted away another few inches and his heart clenched, tightening his chest until he could barely breathe.

“You care about her a lot. I’ve seen the way you are with her. She’s attached to you because you’re good to her when the man who was supposed to be kind, her best friend, someone who loved her above all others, let her down and hurt her.”

Owen pulled the truck over again and slammed the gear shift into park. He turned to face her, trying his level best not to yell.

“I am all those things to you that Dale should have been for Shannon.”

Oh hell, he just told her he loves her. Did he? Yes. He did love her.

Not exactly the right time to tell her outright.

When he thought of the rest of his life, she was by his side. If something went well in his day, he wanted to share it with her. When things didn’t go his way, he liked talking to her about it. Somehow, it made him feel better to share it with her. The good things became better. The bad seemed less significant. But she remained integral to his happiness.

Maybe he needed to think about it some more? Nope. Everything in him believed in that statement and what she’d said a man should be to his wife. He’d gone with instinct. Maybe it was too soon, too fast, too much to think about at a time like this, but he’d said it, and he’d let it hang for now.

When the timing was better, he’d say those three words he’d barely spoken at all in his life.

“I know you’re pissed off that those two keep coming between us. When you’re angry, I’m angry. When you’re hurt, I’m hurt. When you pull away from me because of what that asshole did, it makes me even angrier. You and me, we’re a team. If you want to go home, I’ll turn the truck around and we’ll go home.”

“You want to check on her.”

“I do, because she’s my client and a friend. Nothing more. You are and will always be my priority. So if you want to go home together, I’m with you. Lord knows I’d like to forget any of this happened.”

She scooted back across the seat and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his neck.

“I’m tired. I’m sorry she got hurt. I do want to go and see her and make sure she’s okay. I just want this whole mess to be over. I know it’s not your fault. I just don’t understand why all this is happening to us.”

Owen held her tight and felt the depth and weight of the sigh she let out. “I wish I could explain it.”

Claire settled in next to him again, her head resting on his shoulder. He pulled back onto the two-lane road and headed for town once again. The silence gave him too much time to think. Her too, so he blurted out, “It’s true, you know.”

“You can’t even say it.”

He smiled, because he heard the teasing lilt to her voice. Oh yeah, she’d understood exactly what he’d said to her earlier.

“I will.”

“Uh huh.”

The quiet surrounded them again, nothing but the hum of the motor and tires spinning over the pavement. The town lights glowed up ahead. Claire shifted and looked up at him.

“It goes both ways, you know.”

He bent and kissed her on the forehead. “I know.”

She settled into his side, her left arm under his right, her hand on his thigh, his on hers, her right hand on his bicep. She held on tight and he gave her leg a squeeze to reassure her. This is how things should always be between them. Close. Connected. Easy.

These moments they shared were always short lived. They would be until the cops caught Dale and threw his ass in jail.

C
LAIRE WALKED INTO
the emergency room with Owen. She didn’t really have a choice, since he’d taken her hand helping her from the truck and never let it go. She didn’t mind. She loved it that he wanted to keep her close.

She still couldn’t believe what he’d said—well, almost said. He meant it though. It took her off guard and made her think about how she really felt. Was it wishful thinking that he truly loved her? No. Owen wasn’t the kind of man to say something like that and not mean it. Still, she’d hesitated to say it back. Probably because he’d held back from saying it outright himself. Of course, the moment hadn’t been the best for something like that. It should be special. Not another moment ruined by Dale and Shannon and their continuing drama.

“I’m here to see Shannon Monoghan. I’m her lawyer.”

“Mr. McBride, yes, I was just about to call you. She said you might drive her home.”

“Um, of course,” Owen said, giving Claire an apologetic look.

“It’s fine. She needs a ride.” She kissed his cheek to reassure him she meant it. “You’re sweet.”

“On you. Yes.”

That made her smile and feel lighter.

He gave her hand a squeeze, but didn’t let go. To the nurse he said, “Where is she?”

“Cubicle three, just over there.” The nurse pointed them in the right direction and Owen led her across the crowded waiting room. So many people sick and in need of help at such an hour. Most of them looked tired and impatient. Claire could relate.

“Shannon,” Owen called through the curtain.

“Owen. Oh, thank God, you’re here.”

They stepped past the blue drape. Shannon lay on her back on the gurney, her face about as white as the pillowcase she rested her head on. A large bruise spread over the right side of her face from her forehead down to her cheek. The impact injury to her forehead looked to be the worst of the damage, resulting in not only the ugly purple splotch, but a small nasty cut that had been stitched closed.