Unsafe Haven (11 page)

“Denn?” A touch of hesitancy laced her soft voice. He turned. “Thanks for helping out.”

He sent her a snappy salute from the open doorway. “Anytime.”

“What about me? I helped.” Luna had sidled around him and now stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at them both.

Kendall held up a fistful of bills. “You sure did. Want your pay?”

With a whoop, Luna made a beeline for Kendall, snatched the cash from her hand, and scurried away with it like a sneaky little mouse with a chunk of stolen cheese. “I’m rich! I’m rich!” She bounced over to Denn and waved money in his face.

He clapped a palm on her shoulder and pushed her out the door. “Then you can buy me a tank of gas.” Over her protesting wails, he called to Kendall, “Six sharp, you hear?”

“Yes, Chief Nulo. Anything you say, Chief Nulo.” Her wisecrack tone kept him in smiles all the way back to town.

Kendall dropped her head toward her knees and pulled her fingers through her hair. Natural curl might be coveted by a lot of women, but they’d sing a different tune if they had to deal with her mane every day of their lives. She shook her head, still upside down, combed it with her fingers again and straightened, one hand pressed against her lower back. A fast look in the mirror affirmed her hair tumbled nicely around her face and would behave itself long enough to get through the evening. She could always braid it again, but her woman’s vanity pooh-poohed the idea.

A touch of mascara and shadow on her lids and a quick swipe of blush served as final polish for a face she’d always considered too innocent and girlish to be taken seriously as an adult. She often peered at her reflection and saw the same twelve-year-old kid who’d roller-bladed and bicycled down the sidewalk in front of the house where she grew up. Even her parents had treated her like a child long after she’d reached her teenage years.

Sudden grief swamped her when she thought of her mom and dad. Their deaths had been so pointless. Vehicular accidents occurred every day, but never had Kendall dreamed it would happen in her family. A dark rainy night, a slippery road and just a few seconds of inattention at the wheel had resulted in the loss of her only family.

Anger so strong it nearly suffocated her dispelled the heavy sadness in her heart.
Inattention at the wheel. What a crock.
The police reports stated it. A few lone witnesses to the crash also confirmed it. But Kendall knew better, now.

At eighteen, she’d stood by the open gravesite and sobbed as two rosewood coffins were lowered into the ground. Nightmares brought on by the pain of loss, awakened her late at night, along with a scream that formed in the back of her throat. Mom and Dad, gone, forever.

Don’t go there. Leave it alone
.

With an unsteady sigh, she straightened her spine and brushed a few stray hairs off the shoulders of her bright blue cotton blouse. Several more deep breaths calmed her. With determination, she set the painful memories aside and vowed to enjoy the coming evening.

She wriggled into the jeans laid out on the bed. Faded from many washings and form-fitting from waist to hem, they accentuated her long legs and rounded hips. She buttoned them and slipped her feet into leather flats the same color as her blouse.

Tonight would be fun, relaxing—and a personal test for her. She’d had three dates with Denn, two of them chaperoned by Luna, and Kendall knew he wanted more. To be honest with herself, so did she. Whether or not she could handle more at this time remained to be seen. Sometimes she looked at him and her heart pounded so loudly she feared he’d hear it. His hair would brush his neck and she wanted her lips there, on that smooth, bronzed skin. A turn of his head or a certain smile could get her pulse fluttering like nothing else. She’d witness his tender handling of Luna, the way he cared for and cherished her, and Kendall yearned for the same tenderness.

Her troubled sigh seemed loud in the quiet room as she collected her purse from the table near her bed. She understood her own insecurities, her resurgent fears, what she kept hidden from Denn and what bits of personal history she doled out. Of course he wondered about her, how could he not? Chief of Police in a small village, he knew everyone and they all trusted him with their safety. Someone of mystery living in his town and unwilling to talk much about herself had to raise some red flags. So far, he’d taken her on trust.

Yet in one short month, he’d shared a lot with her. She knew all about his parents, the difficult relationship between their mother and Luna’s father, Denn’s years at UAA, and the dreams he’d put on hold when he came home for his sister. She’d helped Luna with her insulin shots, laughed with her, even comforted her once when talking about her mother had brought on a burst of tears. In a matter of weeks, Kendall’s emotions had tied themselves not only to Staamat but to the Nulos.

It thrilled her—and it scared her, too.

With a final check in the mirror to assure her unsettled thoughts didn’t show on her face, Kendall headed downstairs to seek out Wendy. The inn’s owner had been hard to connect with these past few weeks, as the town filled with the bustle of tourist season and many came to the Four Hills looking for rooms. Reservations were necessary due to the limited space at the inn and its six bedrooms couldn’t keep up with the demand. Kendall planned to give three days’ notice and vacate her room on Tuesday. Wendy no doubt had plenty of reservations to fill the vacancy.

The clatter of dishes drew her to the kitchen, where Wendy finished the garnish on an appetizer tray. She made several each day and set them on tables in the front parlor for her guests to enjoy.

As Kendall moved closer, Wendy raised her head and eyed her briefly. “Is there something I can do for you, Kendall?” Her voice held sparse courtesy.

Kendall released a quiet sigh. Wendy’s cold shoulder and Denn’s interest in Kendall had occurred at roughly the same time. Wendy never said anything outright to Kendall, and her professionalism couldn’t be faulted. But Wendy treated her other guests with a friendly warmth that vanished as soon as she was in the vicinity.

Tonight, she wouldn’t let anything bother her. Kendall pasted on a smile. “Evening, Wendy. I wanted to let you know I’ll be vacating my room on Tuesday.” She paused, then rushed on, “I’ll bet you already have folks lined up. It’s such a lovely room. I’ve enjoyed staying here, along with your wonderful hospitality.”

Wendy stared at her, a cheese knife clutched in one hand and a block of cheddar in the other. Kendall held her smile even as a thread of misgiving swept through her. Had she said something wrong, given notice in an incorrect manner? Maybe she should have offered it written.

The silence spun out long enough to make Kendall edgy. Wendy laid the cheese and the knife on the table and wiped her hands on the dishtowel slung over her shoulder. “I appreciate your patronage. If you’ll wait a few minutes, I can finalize your bill right now. Unless you have somewhere you need to be.”

“You don’t have to do it now, Wendy. You’re so busy in here.” Kendall tried another smile, which Wendy didn’t return. “I, uh, have plans anyhow, and I’m running a bit late.”

Wendy’s eyes narrowed and she raked them over Kendall. Suddenly tense, she looped her purse strap over her shoulder and took a step backward. She owed this woman no explanations, yet her nervousness compelled her to add, “I’m heading out to dinner.”

“With Denn?” This time the question held hostility.

“Yes.” It seemed pointless to lie. Kendall wasn’t about to let anyone intimidate her out of having dinner with a man she found wildly attractive. “With Denn and Luna.”

“I see.” Wendy’s hands twisted in the dishtowel she held. Kendall’s eyes fastened on those white knuckles before she raised an uncertain gaze to her hostess’s face. A thin-lipped frown and a tight jaw revealed Wendy’s anger.

Well, this isn’t good.

Another long silence ensued, then Wendy replied, “I’ll have your statement ready on Tuesday morning.” With a snap of her wrist, she flipped the towel over the back of the nearest chair. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to finish these trays.”

Kendall murmured her thanks and left the kitchen. She’d just cleared the doorway and crossed the front parlor when a loud crash and a shrill obscenity echoed from the room. Wendy had never seemed like the type to utter such explicit curses. Judging by the reaction from a few of the other guests, Kendall guessed she wasn’t the only one shocked. She hurried to the door and slipped out.

In the kitchen, Wendy sank onto the closest chair and dropped her head in her hands. The cheese tray she’d so artfully arranged lay on the floor, cheddar and crackers spilled and her homemade hot pepper dip splashed on the tiles. Never had she lost her temper to the point of being destructive, never had she thrown food and spouted swear words.

She dragged her fingers through her short hair, ruining the careful style she’d fussed with earlier. In the hopes that she’d see Denn and he’d think she looked good.

God, I’m pathetic.

A few weeks ago she’d been optimistic, eager to let him know she had strong feelings for him. She’d changed herself, for him. Bought new clothes, for him. Wore jewelry and makeup, two things she despised, for him. Only to discover she’d never had a chance at all.

Wearily, she slipped from the chair and knelt to clean up the mess she’d made. She collected cheese slices and broken crackers, wiped up glass shards and pepper dip, carried everything to the trash can sitting in the corner of the kitchen and crammed them inside. Thankfully she’d already made a tray of sweets and set it in the parlor. Her guests would be satisfied with her signature cookies and brownie drops until she served dinner a few hours from now.

Wendy had never felt less like catering to a houseful of people in her life. She just wanted them all to go away.

After dumping the trash, she returned to the kitchen and scrubbed the mess off her hands. Some of the pepper sauce had spattered on the legs of her mint green slacks. Damn it all, she’d only had them a week. Part of an order she’d placed online, the slacks and matching handkerchief hem tunic had done wonders for her skin tone. Now they were probably ruined. She wet a paper towel and dabbed at the red flecks of sauce. Tears burned in her eyes as she doggedly worked on the stains. After five minutes of scrubbing, she gave up and threw the paper towel into the sink.

The evening stretched ahead, hours of boredom interspersed with the occasional demand from her guests. Ordinarily she enjoyed the summers, the temporary population boom tourism brought to Staamat. But not this summer. All she could think about lately seemed to be Denn and his unavailability. And the only person she could blame for his loss was Kendall Martin.

Before that woman showed up in her town, Wendy had made significant progress with Denn. He trusted her with Luna, even if the brat never appreciated her efforts to be friends. He met her for lunch, came over for coffee in the morning. They had long, meaningful conversations. She knew him, the things he liked, his political views. Maybe he hadn’t made a move on her yet, but it was only a matter of time before he did.

Until Kendall.

Slowly, Wendy trudged to the rear of the inn, through a secondary hallway to her private quarters. She’d turned a downstairs bedroom and adjoining study into a two-room suite. Guests had the run of the rest of the inn, but this section was all hers. On the honey oak vanity across from her four-poster bed, she retrieved a set of keys and clutched them in one hand. Careful to lock the door behind her, Wendy climbed the stairs to the second floor.

She paused by Kendall’s door and jiggled the handle. The keys pressed into her palm as she gripped them harder, then brought them to eye level and stared at the one that fit into Kendall’s lock.

I should go in and check for any damage before I write her final bill.
Wendy stared harder at the key.
It’s my inn. I own everything here. I can go into a guest’s room whenever I need to.
The little voice in her head, scolding her for invasion of privacy, was easy enough to ignore once she inserted the key and turned the doorknob.

Inside, Kendall had left the room spotless. Wendy rarely had much to do other than bring up fresh sheets and towels. Once in a while she had a guest who stayed for longer than a few days and preferred to take care of themselves. Wendy discounted their rate when they did. Kendall had chosen the same limited housekeeping, which was fine with Wendy.

The only real disarray in the room came from three boxes against the far wall near the bathroom. Extra clothing or books, maybe legal papers, she had no idea. They’d come in the drop about two days after Kendall arrived and she hadn’t yet moved them to the business she’d bought out from under Mike Nulty. Whatever those boxes held, Kendall didn’t seem to want them out of her sight.

Wendy crossed the room and laid her palm on one of the boxes. She’d been curious about them from the day she’d seen Denn and Kendall carry them upstairs to this very room. Well, more like dying to know what they might contain. As the weeks passed and she had more and more reason to dislike Kendall, Wendy’s curiosity had grown. Especially since Kendall never said anything to anybody—at least that Wendy knew of—about her life in the Lower Forty-Eight.

Did she have some deep, dark secret? A criminal record she ran from? Wendy had Googled her one night when curiosity got the better of her. At the time she’d defended her need to pry as a way to protect her business from the dregs she knew lived everywhere. A search on the Internet brought up nothing she could pinpoint. Besides, there were more than a few people named ‘Kendall Martin,’ including two men. When she expanded the search to nationwide, she got more of nothing.

Wendy’s fingers tapped on the box lid. Her index finger idly picked at the tape, surprised to see it come up without leaving tears on the cardboard. She picked at it some more, until the tape lifted enough for her to edge her fingers inside. They slid over a smooth metal surface. She peered into the widening slit and found a strongbox. Carefully, she lifted it out and laid it on the floor. She prodded the locked lid.

Locks tempted her worse than her daily craving for chocolate. According to her mother, she’d come out of the womb nosier than a cat. Wendy pressed against the latch but it didn’t budge. She examined the lock. A monkey with a bobby pin could open something so flimsy. She didn’t have any bobby pins, but she had a metal fingernail file.

She also had a few hours to kill and late afternoon TV left a lot to be desired, even with her new satellite disk. Her mind made up, Wendy left the strongbox on the floor of Kendall’s room, locked the door behind her, and ran downstairs for her cosmetic case.