A Deadly Love (2 page)

Dillon ran back to the truck and opened the passenger door. Brooke’s eyes were closed. “Hey.” He held her hand and rubbed it between his. “Are you okay?”

Slowly she opened her eyes. “Sorry, I’m just tired.”

“You can get some sleep after the doc sees you.” He lifted her off the seat into his arms.

“I can walk, Dillon.”

“You don’t weigh much. Humor me.”

She rested her head against his shoulder. Her soft hair brushed his chin, and her body was supple and warm in his arms. When she shivered and snuggled closer, he tightened his hold.

“You aren’t wearing a coat. You must be freezing.”

“I didn’t need one while I was driving. I had the heater in the car cranked up. It works even if the airbags don’t.”

Bending awkwardly, he turned the doorknob. “Way to get your automotive priorities straight.” He crossed the dimly lit waiting area and walked into the exam room. A fluorescent light buzzed overhead, glaring off the white walls. Carefully, he lowered her onto the paper-covered exam table. The doctor had exchanged his bathrobe for a lab coat and hung a stethoscope around his neck.

“Carter, do you remember Brooke Wakefield? She spent summers here with her grandparents when she was a kid. Brooke, this is Doctor Carter Shaw.”

She smiled. “You were the star center on the high school basketball team. Sorry to drag you out of bed.”

Carter smiled back, his teeth gleaming in his tanned face. “I was up watching an old movie. It’s nice to see you again, Brooke, although the circumstances are less than ideal. Let’s take a look at that bump.” He glanced over at Dillon. “You can have a seat in the waiting area while I examine our patient.”

Reluctantly, he left the room. Carter was eyeing Brooke the way her dog would drool over a big, juicy pork chop. The doctor had a reputation as a lady’s man, and she was in no condition to fend him off. Not that he would behave inappropriately with a patient. Dillon reluctantly gave the man credit for his professionalism.

Dropping onto an oatmeal colored couch, he ran his hand along his scruffy jaw. He’d forgotten to shave again, and he needed a shower. Next to Carter, he looked like crap. Not that it mattered. He hadn’t seen Brooke Wakefield in years, but he doubted she was the type to indulge in a fling while she was here visiting her grandmother. Still, the cute teenage girl he remembered had turned into a beautiful woman. Bloodied and bruised, she was still hot. As he recalled the feel of her silky hair against his chin, his body stirred.

Needing some fresh air to rein in his thoughts, Dillon jumped to his feet and headed outside. He opened the side door of his pickup, and Otis leaped out. While the dog sniffed the parking area and lifted his leg over an azalea bush, Dillon pulled out his cell phone and hit the memory button for the sheriff’s office.

After he relayed the information about the car accident, the deputy assured him he would send someone to check the scene, set out flares, and have the vehicle towed by morning. Dillon clicked his phone shut and followed the dog around the side of the house. Minutes later, headlights sliced through the fog, and a police cruiser turned into the driveway.

“That you, Harley?” he called, hurrying back to the parking lot.

The sheriff pulled his stocky frame from the cruiser and shoved his hat down over his buzz cut. Slamming the door, he headed toward Dillon. “Yep. Dispatch contacted me. What happened?”

“Brooke Wakefield smashed her car into a redwood tree trying to avoid a woman who darted onto the road.”

His bushy eyebrows shot up. “Why the hell would anyone be running around in the fog at this time of night?”

Dillon shrugged. “I didn’t see any sign of a woman, but Brooke seemed pretty certain about it.”

“Isn’t she June Ransome’s granddaughter, the cute little blonde who used to visit every summer?”

“That’s right. June mentioned she was coming.”

Harley glanced past him and reared back. “Jesus, for a minute I thought that animal was a bear.”

Dillon looked down at Otis. His head came up nearly to his waist. “The dog belongs to Brooke.”

“Looks more like a pony. Let’s go inside. I’d like to ask her a few questions.”

“She’s in with Carter getting her head checked. The impact knocked her out.”

The sheriff’s craggy features drew into a frown. “No point in waiting out here. February fog is colder than a well digger’s ass.”

Dillon nodded. “I’ll put the dog back in the truck first. If he wanders off, we’ll never find him in the dark.”

He’d just entered the waiting area when Brooke and Carter emerged from the exam room. A white bandage covered the laceration on her forehead, and her face had regained some of its color. Her midnight blue gaze met his.

“Hey, how’re you feeling?”

“Better. I’ll be good as new once I shower and get some sleep.”

Carter frowned. “You need to take it easy for a while, Brooke. You have a concussion and bruised ribs. Take the painkillers and make sure June checks on you regularly tonight.”

She smiled at the doctor. “Knowing Grandma June, she won’t let me out of her sight.”

“Good.”

Dillon stepped forward and took her arm. “Come sit down. The sheriff wants to ask you a few questions before I take you home. Do you remember Harley Boone?”

She nodded and sat gingerly on the edge of the couch. “Hello, sheriff.”

He gave her an easy smile. “I won’t keep you long. Can you tell me what happened?”

Her lips tightened. “I was driving slowly, thank God, because I couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of the car. A woman dashed out onto the road. I swerved to miss her and hit a tree. The next thing I remember is Dillon looking down at me.”

“If you’d been going any faster, the impact would have done a lot more damage to both you and the car,” Dillon said. “As it is, the front end of your Subaru is totaled.”

She winced and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “I figured as much.”

Harley cleared his throat. “Are you sure you saw a woman? Couldn’t it have been an animal or maybe a falling tree branch that startled you?”

“It was a woman. I saw her face. She had dark hair, and she screamed when my car came at her.” She shuddered. “I was so afraid I was going to hit her. I’ve never been that scared in my life.”

Dillon touched her arm. “Relax, Brooke. You didn’t hit her.”

“A deputy is out there now, and we’ll check the scene thoroughly as soon as it’s light. Is there anything else you can tell me?”

She looked up at the sheriff, strain etched in the lines around her full lips. “She was wearing something long and white. I’m sorry I don’t have a better description, but I only caught a glimpse of her.”

He slipped his notebook into the pocket of his uniform jacket. “That’s fine. If you didn’t hit her, there’s no reason to pursue the matter further. Thanks for your time, Brooke, and welcome back to Woodvale. Are you staying long?”

She stood, swaying. Dillon grasped her elbow to steady her. “Actually, I’ll be living with Grandma June indefinitely.”

He stared. “Seriously? June didn’t tell me you were moving in.”

“It was a recent decision on my part.”

Carter smiled. “Hey, that’s terrific.”

Her answering smile looked worn.

Dillon ushered her toward the door. “Thanks for the first aid, Doc.”

“I was happy to help. Don’t forget to drop by next week, Brooke, so I can check those stitches.”

“I won’t forget.” She stopped and turned. “I can’t leave yet. Surely there’s paperwork to fill out and your bill to pay.”

“You can take care of it with my receptionist the next time you’re here.”

“Good idea. You look ready to drop,” Dillon said, opening the door. When they reached the truck, he helped her in and then hurried around to the driver’s side. Pausing beside the police cruiser, he glanced over at the sheriff who’d followed them outside. “Any word on Tricia Eaton?”

Harley frowned and shook his head. “She hasn’t been in touch with her mother. Looks like that son of a bitch she was living with hit her one too many times, and she took off.”

“It’s strange she didn’t take any of her stuff with her.”

“I know, and I’ll admit I’m concerned. It’s been several days since her mother reported her missing. The police in Crescent City are keeping a close eye on the boyfriend, but there’s no evidence of a crime. It seems Tricia simply left town.”

Dillon met Harley’s worried gaze. “Let me know if you hear anything.”

He nodded, and his jaw clenched. “I will.”

****

Brooke turned her head on the back of the seat when Dillon climbed into the truck. The dome light shone down on his chestnut hair and green-flecked golden eyes.
Cat eyes.
He reminded her of a mountain lion, strong and sleek and dangerous. She shivered.

He shut the door, and the light went out. “Are you cold?”

“A little. Dillon, thank you so much for everything. I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”

He started the engine and turned up the heat. “I’m glad I came along when I did.”

“I hope no one was expecting you. You weren’t driving around at night in the fog without a reason.” She let out a breath. “God, I’m an idiot. I’m sorry for keeping you so long.”

“No one was expecting me. I had a dinner meeting with a mill owner in Crescent City, and it ran late.” He turned off the main street onto a side road. Beyond the headlight beams, the night was black. He grinned at her. “I wasn’t on my way to a hot date, more’s the pity.”

Her face heated, and she was thankful for the darkness. “I wasn’t fishing.”

“I’m teasing you.”

“What about your son?”

“Zack is spending the night at his great-grandpa’s cabin. I had a feeling my meeting would drag on until well past his bedtime.”

“How is Jesse?”

“Grandpa is the same as always. Most of the locals think he’s crazier than a loon, but he’s good with Zack.”

He pulled up in front of her grandmother’s rambling, Victorian house. The outdoor light was on, revealing peeling white paint and a listing front porch.

Regret stole her breath and brought tears to her eyes. “I should have come sooner. I should have been here for Grandma after Gramps died. I was so busy with my own life, my own problems...”

Dillon turned to face her. “It looks worse than it is. Except for the support beam on the porch, most of the repairs are cosmetic. I’ve been after June for weeks to let me shore up the porch for her.”

“I’ll see to it right away.”

He touched her arm. “I hope you don’t mind that I called your mother. June seemed to be struggling to make ends meet, and I thought her daughter should know.”

“I’m thankful you did. None of us have been around much since Gramps’ funeral. Grandma didn’t want us to come. She drove down to the Bay Area to visit over the holidays and didn’t say a word about money problems. Christmas was only a month and a half ago.” Her fist clenched on the seat. “I should have made sure she was doing okay financially.”

“You’re here now, and I’m happy you don’t think I overstepped my bounds.”

“You’ve been a good friend to her, Dillon. I’m grateful.”

“It works both ways. I don’t know how I would manage if she didn’t watch Zack for me after school.” He jerked his head toward the house. “Enough chit-chat, let’s get you inside.”

She opened the door and slid out of the truck. Pain shot through her side, and she gasped.

He took her arm. “Easy does it.”

“I’m okay. Can you let Otis out?”

He unlatched the rear passenger door, and the dog exploded through the opening, knocking Brooke into his arms. She leaned into his chest. His jacket was unzipped, the flannel of his shirt warm against her cheek. A button pressed into her jaw as his arms tightened.

“Is he part moose?”

Brooke looked up at him. “What?”

“Your dog.”

She smiled. “Otis is a cross between an Irish wolfhound and a Great Dane. There may be a little Saint Bernard and blood hound mixed in there, too. He’s a good boy.”

“I’ll take your word for it. Come inside. You’re practically dead on your feet.”

With his hand at her elbow, she climbed the porch steps. Lights flashed on, and the front door opened. June Ransome stepped out, her smile fading as she regarded her granddaughter.

“Dear Lord, what happened?”

“I’m all right, Grandma. I hit a tree, but it didn’t get the better of me.”

She clucked her tongue. “Come sit down this minute.”

Brooke followed her through the entry hall into the front parlor. She eased down onto a settee upholstered in pink cabbage roses. End tables strewn with dainty knick-knacks were scattered about the room, and a braided oval wool rug covered the hardwood floor. “I really am fine.”

June touched Brooke’s blood-matted hair, and her lips quivered. Tears sprang into her faded blue eyes. “What happened?”

“I hit a tree a couple of miles out of town. Dillon found me and insisted I get checked out by the doctor.” She looked over at him and smiled. “He wouldn’t bring me home until I did, even when I argued.”

“I’m thankful he showed such good sense.”

Dillon cleared his throat. “I’ll bring in your bags and be on my way.”

“What did Doctor Shaw say?” June asked as he left the room.

“I have a mild concussion and bruised ribs. He put a couple of stitches in my forehead where I hit it on the steering wheel. It really could have been a lot worse.” She squeezed her grandmother’s hand. It felt as delicate as a bird’s wing in her grip.

“It sounds bad enough. You must be exhausted. Can you manage the stairs? I imagine you’d like a shower before you go to bed. And how about a nice cup of tea?” Her anxious eyes studied Brooke.

“Tea would be lovely, and I’m perfectly capable of climbing stairs. Don’t fuss, Grandma.”

“I’ll fuss if I want to.” She bustled out to the hall, her small figure swallowed up by an old chenille bathrobe. Long white hair hung in a thick braid down her back.

Dillon entered through the open front door, followed by Otis. June stopped. “I’d forgotten about that dog.”

He grinned. “Wishful thinking, no doubt.”

“Not at all. I’m rather fond of him.” She patted Otis’s head. “You can take the bags up, Dillon. Leave them in the back bedroom on the right.”