A Promise Of Home (A Lake Howling Novel Book 1) (19 page)

“You stay here, and I’ll go and check your house.”

“No!” Branna grabbed his arms as he released her. “You won’t go there and be hurt; I won’t let you.”

“I’ll be okay, Branna. I’ll be armed.”

“No, I won’t be responsible for you getting hurt; I can’t go through that again.”

“Hey, shhh, it’s okay.” He pulled her into his arms again. She wouldn’t lose another person she cared about because of something she’d done. The vision of Jake broken and lifeless slipped into her head. “Promise me you’ll stay here.”

“I promise, but I have to call Cubby Hawker.”

“Okay.”

Jake’s first reaction was to go to Branna’s house anyway, and see if they were still there, then shoot them. Of course, he couldn’t do that, but looking at her, huddled and scared in his chair, made anger twist in his gut. The scenarios of what could have happened to her were making him feel sick. Even now, she could be broken and bloody, some man could be…no, don’t go there Jake, she’s here safe with you and he’d make sure she stayed that way. Suddenly, all the reasons why he’d walked away from her the morning after they’d made love had disappeared. He wanted her here in his house, safe from whoever was intent on harming her. He’d wanted to follow her last night, after she left the Howler, but something had stopped him; now, for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what.

Her eyes were wide and dry, but he knew she was battling tears. Branna O’Donnell’s composure had deserted her and she was scrambling hard to regain it.

No, I won’t be responsible for you getting hurt; I can’t go through that again.
Jake knew that when the shock had passed, Branna would hate herself for saying those words, showing weakness.

He took one of her hands, warming the icy fingers in his. He didn’t want to think about her running along that dark trail through the trees to reach him, or the terror that must have gripped her while he’d been lying warm and safe in his bed.

“I need to get my phone, Rosebud.”

“Okay.”

“Just a few seconds, baby, that’s all and I’ll be back.” He ran a hand over her head before he stood.

“I’m okay, Jake, really.” She nodded, her green eyes huge in her pale face, and he didn’t believe her words; she was far from okay.

Running to the bedroom, Jake found his phone, then pulled a blanket from the bed and ran back. Wrapping the blanket around her body, he then took off her boots and tucked it around her feet. She huddled into it, looking so tiny and vulnerable he swore his heart just sighed.

“It’s all right now.” He kissed her softly, brushing those chilled lips again as he reassured her once more.

“I’m not hurt; it was just a shock.”

“It’s okay to admit you were scared, Rosebud. Okay to cry about something that no sane person wouldn’t feel traumatized about.”

“I don’t like to cry.”

He lowered himself onto the arm of her chair, then called Cubby. Her hand stole into his while he waited, and the gesture was telling. Branna O’Donnell didn’t reach for people, she was insular and contained, but she’d reached for him.

“Cubby, its Jake. Branna’s just run here along the trail because she heard someone in her house and she thinks they were trashing it. Yeah, okay, see you soon.”

“So, why don’t you like crying?” he asked, pocketing his phone.

“Crying doesn’t help anything.”

Jake lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the cold knuckles as he thought about that.

“Sure it does, it’s like releasing the water after a bath, let’s all that excess emotion spill down the drain. Keeping all that pent up inside you isn’t healthy, Rosebud.”

She was tense and nervous and her eyes still took up far too much space in her face. He knew about shock, knew how it worked, so he gave her hand one more kiss before he regained his feet.

“I’m going to make some hot chocolate.” He couldn’t stop touching her, his hands pushed the hair back from her forehead.

“Yes, I’d like some of that please.”

So polite, Jake thought, moving to his kitchen. Big and open plan, his living, kitchen and dining areas all opened onto each other.

“I like your home.”

“Thanks, my dad, some friends, and I built it.”

It was a man’s place; he knew that. Not much decoration, just a few paintings and rugs and the prerequisite pillows on the large sofas that his mother had insisted on supplying. But there was a big TV and a view of the lake, and it was his. For months after his return, it had been his haven…the bolt hole where he licked his wounds.

Shooting her a look, he saw Branna was resting her head on the back of the chair watching him. Leaving the milk to heat, he dropped down in front of her again. Touching her reassured him that she was here and safe.

“You okay?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not much of liar.”

“I was a pretty nervous child, used to get panicked easily, and my dad taught me to say, c
ourage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear—not absence of fear
, over and over in my head when I felt it coming on.”

“Mark Twain.”

“Yes,” she nodded, her eyes focused on his. “I said it over and over again on the way to you, Jake.”

“I’m glad you ran to me, Branna.”

“I-I,” she frowned, as if the words confused her. “I didn’t think about it. I just ran.”

“And here I am.”

“Here you are.” She placed a hand on his chest, as if to check that he really was there. Who had she run to before he came into her life? Were there times when she needed someone, but no one was there because she’d shut everyone out?

“I thought about my father as I ran and suddenly I missed him, which is strange, because I thought I’d gotten past that.”

How did a person ever get past missing a parent?
Jake wondered. Slipping a hand beneath the blanket, he then ran it up her leg, stroking the cold skin, soothing and reassuring both himself and her.

“I’m not sure why I’m talking about this now.”

She looked genuinely confused, but he knew that she was reacting to what had happened, wasn’t really back in control yet, as much as she wanted to believe she was.

“Where is he now?” Jake rose and finished making the hot chocolate. Then, bringing a large mug back, he placed it on the table beside her; she didn’t resist when he lifted her up and sat with her on his lap. Picking up the mug, he then handed it to her.

She drank slowly, taking small sips, letting the chocolate slide down her throat, and then handed it back to him.

“Thank you, that tastes good.”

“Of course it’s good. I made it.”

Her snuffle fell way short of a laugh.

“Do you know where your father is?”

“No, we lost touch.”

Jake couldn’t fathom that because, even when he’d been in another country, he’d known where his parents and sister were and how soon he could reach them if he needed to.

“What happened?”

She turned and rested her cheek against his chest, and Jake wondered if she would answer his question, but it seemed that fear had loosened her tongue.

“He couldn’t forgive me for killing the only woman he had ever loved.”

Jake didn’t buy that, but he also didn’t know enough about the situation to make a call. However, he had a hunch that somewhere along the line, Branna and her dad had driven each other away in their grief.

“You didn’t kill her.”

“He believed so, and didn’t love me enough to forgive me.”

He didn’t believe that either. He listened as she talked about her father, about the life they’d had before her mother’s death and contrary to what Branna believed, he formed the picture of a man who loved his daughter, a man who helped to do projects, and went on school trips, and even made her a tutu when his wife had to work. That was not a cold-hearted man; it was a man who loved his daughter.

The flash of light through the windows told him Cubby had arrived. He lifted her off his lap and went to open the door to his old friend, who appeared looking rumpled and sleep mussed.

“Evening, Jake.”

“Cubby.” Leading him to where Branna sat, Jake went to make coffee for the sheriff.

“Hey there, Miss O’Donnell, remember me from school?”

“Of course and thank you for coming here at such an hour. Please, call me Branna.”

She sounded like the teacher she’d once been, polite and distant and Jake wondered when she’d let the tears he knew had to be inside her, fall.

Pulling up another chair, the sheriff dropped into it and took the mug Jake handed him.

“Jake said you had some trouble, Branna, so I called by your house to check things over. I’m sorry to say, they’ve made a mess over there, and destroyed some of your property.”

She lowered her head, letting her hair hide her face. Jake saw her shoulders rise and fall as she drew in several deep breaths before looking at Cubby again.

“I-I th-thought that’s what was happening. I heard the sound of glass breaking and something tearing.”

“I’m sorry for it, and will say that this is not something common for Howling, Branna. I hope you know that.”

She managed a smile for Cubby. “It’s not your fault.”

“Would you mind telling me about it, and start from the beginning with anything you can remember. I’ll make notes, if that’s all right with you?”

After handing Branna her chocolate again, Jake sat on the arm of the chair as she began her story. He’d heard it, but hearing it the second time made him angrier, probably because he’d had time to think about the what ifs.

“You heard no voices?” Cubby questioned.

“Whispers, but no loud voices. Whatever was happening down there, they did not want me to wake up and witness it.”

Jake touched her shoulder, then ran his fingers over the skin the loose neck of her shirt exposed. Cubby was scratching away in his notebook as she talked.

The childhood friend he and Buster had was now a man. Solid, with a shock of red hair, Cubby was a man the citizens of Howling had come to depend upon and often did.

“Now, Branna, I know you haven’t been back in town long, but have you had any altercations with anyone? Been threatened in any way?”

Jake felt her twitch, the gesture was small, but her body jerked in response to Cubby’s question.

“I need to know everything, Branna, no matter how small the detail is.”

She shot Jake a look, then turned back to Cubby.

“Yesterday morning, I went out to inspect my garden, and found someone had destroyed it.”

“Destroyed it how?” Jake demanded.

“Jake,” Cubby warned, hearing the anger in his voice.

“Totally destroyed it. Tore out all the plants, stripped off leaves and flowers, uprooted everything and stomped all over it. Even my new plants were ruined.”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me, Branna?” Jake questioned.

“Why would I tell you?” She looked genuinely confused as she looked up at him.

“Because I care what happens to you…because I could have helped clean it up.”

“Sit, Jake, now.” Cubby’s voice was calm, and Jake hadn’t even realized he’d risen until that moment.

“Okay, Branna, you tell me everything now. Every detail, and don’t leave anything out because you think that big bastard seated beside you is going to get angry. I can handle him.”

“You sure?” She shot him a quick look.

“I decked him once…he dropped like a rag doll. Believe me, he’s not as tough as he appears.”

“Six, Cubby, we were six, and I wasn’t looking.” Jake forced himself to relax.

“Still took you, bud.”

Jake bared his teeth, but said nothing further.

“You can start now, Branna. He’s subdued.”

“There’s not much else to say. The garden was ruined; Belle took pictures and then she, Mikey, and I fixed it up.”

“All right, Branna, that will do for now. Tomorrow, I want to question you further, just to see if there’s anything else you remember. I have my deputies at your place now, fingerprinting and taking photos.”

“They’re taking photos now, at this time of night?” Branna asked.

Cubby nodded. “Needs to be done now.”

Jake rose along with Cubby. “I’ll be back soon, Branna,” he said, managing a smile for her before following the sheriff outside.

“Spit it out, Cubby. I know something’s on your mind,” Jake said, when they reached his cruiser. The night settled around them, the absolute quiet that he loved, but tonight it didn’t calm him as it normally did.

“This is a nasty business, Jake, and the truth of it is, I think someone’s targeting that little lady. First the garden and now this, it smacks of someone trying to frighten her, but for the life of me I can’t figure out why.”

“Why her? She’s been away for years and hasn’t been back long enough to make trouble; it doesn’t make any sense, Cubby.”

“I’ve been to the house, Jake, it’s not good. In fact, it’s downright nasty. Tomorrow we’ll all go there with her, because she’s going to need the support. But before I leave, I need to ask you to look out for her, because I don’t have enough deputies to do it. If this isn’t random, which I can’t see my way to thinking it is, then she needs watching and if I’ve read the situation correctly, she’s tugging at your heart strings.”

She was, Jake couldn’t deny it, although it scared him spitless.

Jake watched Cubby’s taillights leave his drive minutes later, then with a final look to the stars, he headed back to Branna.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Branna watched him walk inside, his big body coiled so tight she could see the muscles in his chest clenching. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, the memory of his anger playing over and over again in her head.

“Are you all right, Branna? Can I get you anything?” He headed for the kitchen.

“It’s been so long since someone cared about me, Jake; thank you for saying the words.”

He stopped and turned at her words, then leaned back on the wall to look at her.

“What words?”

“That you cared enough to want to help me.”

“You’re a very special lady, Rosebud; I can’t imagine anyone not wanting to protect you.”

“I’m not special, but you make me feel that way.” Branna held his eyes. “I-it felt so good to have you angry on my behalf, which is probably wrong on many levels, but right now it makes me feel warm.”