Breaking the Rules (23 page)

He finished the soup and went back to the porch to light a cigarette, staring out at the brightly lit view of the mountains. Inside, Mattie hummed as she cleared their dishes.

He walked to the end of the porch and stared down the road. A hollowness echoed in his chest and—

Damn.

“Mattie!” he called urgently, finally recognizing the warning signs. He’d been so preoccupied over her departure that he hadn’t realized his instincts had been screaming for more than an hour. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled now and he called again. “Mattie!”

She came out to the porch, drying her hands on a small dish towel, her expression perplexed. “You don’t have to yell. I’m right here.”

Through the trees, Zeke caught sight of a flash of color, a yellow utterly at odds with the grays and blues of this landscape. He grabbed Mattie’s arm roughly. “I think we’ve got company.” With a little shove, he directed her to the steps. “Go to the sauna and stay there no matter what you hear.”

“Zeke, no! You can’t—”

“Go.” This time his shove was a little more insistent. “I can’t be worrying about where you are right now. Get!”

She glared at him, but a snatch of a voice reached them through the trees and she jumped down the stairs.

Too late. Just as she landed in the small clearing, the two men Zeke had seen in the café broke through the trees. Both carried guns.

In that split second, standing too far from Mattie to do anything to help her, knowing she stood there because he’d called her outside, Zeke knew a splintering sense of despair.

Once again, the brutal forces of the world would triumph. Once again, he would prove himself unequal to them. Once again—

A vision of his father, smelling of sour beer, holding a cigarette to Zeke’s thirteen-year-old side, sizzled through his mind, overlaying the scene with painful emotion. Rage, buried for twenty years, surfaced in a torrent. Rage deeper than the canyons, wider than the sky.

Zeke turned.

Reacting from the gut, from years and years of fighting a force bigger, stronger, meaner than himself, he let go of a rebel yell and launched himself, running at full speed toward the end of the porch. He vaulted over the railing and into the air. His legs, like the rest of him, were strong, and the leap hurtled him very close to Brian Murphy and his henchman. Their attention had been on Mattie, frozen there in the clearing like a statue. Zeke landed and rolled, ducking his head in a classic football tackle, keeping low. His body caught Brian’s at mid-thigh, and the man tumbled backward, gun flying. They went down together, rolling in a clinch down the hill.

Though not as big as Zeke, Brian was no small man, and he had muscle. The two of them came up fighting, and the struggle was mortal. Zeke held on to the wiry body, hurtling him backward into a tree, and felt the jarring through his own body, but Brian swung and caught Zeke clean on the mouth. A tooth gave way.

Zeke used his fists, his legs, every ounce of strength he’d gained in twenty years, fighting like it was his father and he had one more chance to put the past right. It lent him an unholy strength and gradually he gained the upper hand.

Mattie’s scream brought him out of his furious trance. He let Brian go and bolted for the clearing, keeping his eyes open for the gun that had gone flying when he tackled Brian.

It gleamed dully in the grass and Zeke headed for it. He couldn’t see Mattie anywhere, but heard her screams. Not fearful screams, but the kind to call attention. He could hear the slimy partner utter an epithet, clear in the mountain stillness, and Zeke knew Mattie was fighting, too.

Brian caught Zeke from behind, tackling him before he reached the gun, and the struggle began anew. Zeke landed a right to the jaw; Brian staggered and Zeke gained his feet.

Into the day broke the urgent sound of sirens. The sound distracted Brian long enough to allow Zeke to grab the gun and train it on his opponent’s head. “Don’t move.”

He grabbed the back of the khaki Land’s End jacket and hauled Brian to his feet, holding the gun at his head. Brian lifted his hands in classic surrender. “All right, man. All right. You win.”

The sirens rang closer, and Zeke heard the sheriff’s engine coming up the rutted track to the cabin, but he couldn’t see Mattie. Couldn’t see her or Vince. “Mattie!” he roared.

She emerged from the front door of the cabin, carrying her purse and tote. Vince held her by the collar, his gun held firmly at her back, and she stumbled a little. She looked scuffed, as if there had been a struggle.

Zeke scanned her face for signs of damage. Gone was the wide-eyed innocent, the fearful good girl. A smear of dust covered her chin and her hair was tousled, but it was her expression that changed her. Murderous.

“She’s coming with me,” Vince called out.

“Don’t be stupid,” Zeke returned. “How are you gonna get by the cops?” The sirens were nearly upon them.

“Big woods out there. We’ll do it.”

Brian jerked suddenly, as if to break free. Zeke grabbed a fistful of jacket and cocked the hammer of the gun. “I’d rather not shoot you, because it’s too fast, but I will if I have to.”

Vince pushed Mattie again, toward the trees on the side of the barn. She stumbled again, and Zeke wondered if he could get a clear shot at Vince if she ducked. The police wouldn’t open fire on them. If he didn’t do something, Vince would get away.

Simultaneously, he moved the gun, taking aim. The sheriff’s white Jeep pulled into the clearing, siren screaming. Mattie fell to the ground and curled into a ball. Zeke had a clear shot, but abruptly, Vince dropped to the ground, too. Mattie had attacked his ankles and yanked his feet from beneath him. She was up and moving, but not fast enough. Vince scrambled to his feet.

Mattie turned, and he could hear the high, keening sound of her rage as she lifted that sturdy leather purse filled with rolls of quarters and smashed it into Vince’s head. He went down.

Cold.

Zeke whooped and Mattie glanced over, breathing hard. Her mouth was split and she wiped at it, smearing blood into the mud on her chin. Calmly, she plucked the gun from Vince’s hand and picked up her tote.

Next to Zeke, Brian was silent, watching Mattie approach. Red lights flashed and men were pouring from the two vehicles in the clearing, but Mattie ignored all of it. She walked with determination toward Zeke and Brian and stopped in front of them. From her purse, she pulled the three-foot braid she’d cut from her head and dropped it at Brian’s feet.

Zeke stared at her, her breath coming hard, her thick straight hair scattered over her forehead, her eyes blazing. A high patch of color burned on each cheekbone. Her T-shirt had been torn a little at the neckline and gaped over her slim, beautiful shoulders.

Zeke wondered how the hell he’d ever thought her mild. And how the hell he was going to let her go.

B
rian and Vince were taken in one vehicle as the sheriff took Zeke and Mattie’s statements.

Now everything had been done. Mattie stood outside the cabin with Zeke, her purse on her shoulder, the tote bag at her feet. The sheriff shook Zeke’s hand. “I’ll be in touch.”

Zeke nodded.

The sheriff looked at Mattie. “Am you ready?”

She took a breath and nodded.

“Give us a minute, will you?” Zeke asked.

The man winked and nodded. “I’ll wait in the Jeep.”

A thin gray line of clouds showed to the west and Mattie eyed them for something to focus on so she would not break down and cry or something else equally stupid. “Looks like rain,” she said, shifting her purse close.

“Yep.” He touched her arm with one finger.

Mattie fidgeted with her strap, and finally looked at him. “Guess this is it.”

His throat moved. “Guess it is.” He took her hand. “Let me know how you are every now and then, okay? Call Roxanne at the café in Kismet, leave a message.”

“Sure.” She pressed her lips together, looked up at him. “Thank you for everything.”

He nodded. “Remember, you’re welcome anytime. Standing invitation.”

She smiled. “Get your horse, Zeke. He loves you.” Something in his expression made her suspicious.

“You are going to take the money, aren’t you?”

He took a breath. “No. It’s going to go into an account in your name in Kansas City. The sheriff will give you the number.”

“Are you ever going to ask for anything for yourself, Zeke?”

He gestured toward the land. “I have what I need in this land, Miss Mary.” He glanced at the Jeep and back to her. “You take care,” he said, and stepped back.

Mattie inclined her head, for one long moment thinking of everything that had happened between them—from that first moment in the café to this moment—and she smiled again. “You’re a good man, Zeke Shephard.” Unafraid, she stepped forward and put her arms around his neck, standing on tiptoe to kiss his hard, sculpted cheek. “Be good.”

His embrace was, for a fleeting instant, as fierce and sharp as a vise. “Take care, Miss Mary.” He kissed her head. “Take care.”

Then abruptly, Mattie was standing alone. He really was going to let her go. Carefully swallowing her emotions, she bent and grabbed her tote bag, and walked to the Jeep without a backward glance.

* * *

The next few weeks passed in a blur for Mattie. The Colorado State Patrol escorted her to Denver, where a Kansas City police officer waited to take her into the city. They took her statement and stowed her in a safe house. She didn’t even have to insist that Brian was dangerous, that he had connections and wouldn’t rest until Mattie was dead. The small victory at Zeke’s cabin had only been a minor skirmish in the battle—satisfactory but hardly conclusive. The police weren’t going to take any chances that their sole witness might meet an accident.

She had a friend check her apartment. Mattie’s collection of library books had been boxed carefully by the manager, who’d known how Mattie valued the books, and put in storage. Her job, of course, had been filled.

The days dragged. Mattie hated being back in the city. Everything she’d learned to love about the outdoors seemed perverted here. She had grown used to silence, and the constant flow of noise in the city made her irritable. Car horns and telephones and people talking; televisions, radios, refrigerators humming. Everywhere she went, there was noise.

Her nose had grown sensitive to the subtle scents of pine and water and a man’s skin. Exhaust fumes and stale smoke and blacktop permeated the air here.

The worst, though, was the heat and humidity. In the mountains, she’d grown used to the light, sweet air. Here the air seemed to strangle her and the heat weighed on her body like an iron. The bad-temperedness was partly by choice, of course. Mattie knew that. She didn’t want to be here. Kansas City had been her home all of her life, but she’d only found herself when she left it. Now she felt a prisoner to a life that wasn’t her own any more.

She tried not to think about Zeke. Long ago she’d learned to be pragmatic about life: she accepted what she couldn’t change. Zeke fell into that category, but she caught herself more than once sitting by a window, willing him to come striding up the walk.

She missed him painfully. It seemed impossible that she could have formed a deeper connection with a man she’d known three weeks than with people she’d known most of her adult life. But she had.

There was nothing she could do about that, either.

* * *

Because Brian was a cop-killer, because the Kansas City police had been looking for a break in their attempt to put him away for several years, there wasn’t a long wait for the trial. On a late summer morning, hot and humid, Mattie dressed carefully, brushed her newly trimmed hair, and promptly threw up her breakfast.

Standing in the air-conditioned bathroom, painted pale blue, Mattie stared at herself in the mirror. Was she still so afraid? How could he possibly hurt her?

The person who stared back was hardly the same meek, mild woman who’d never stood up for herself, who settled for the ugly coat and let promotions pass her by. This woman was strong and her face showed it. There was a tilt to her chin. Her eyes were clear and direct. A healthy glow lit her cheeks.

No she wasn’t afraid. A strong man, a good man, had loved her and brought her to life. Nothing could change that. Nothing could ever take it away.

* * *

Zeke sat on his back porch and played tug-of-war with a sloppy, shaggy ball of loose black fur and tiny sharp teeth. “You call yourself a dog?” he said, shaking the rag the puppy clutched between his teeth. “Come on, let me see some real teeth.”

The Labrador growled happily, then let loose of the rag and dived for Zeke’s hand, sloppily licking it and rolling over to have his tummy rubbed. Zeke chuckled and scooped him up, cuddling him in the crook of an arm to rub his head and body. “Can’t be doing this forever, Tommy boy ,” he said with affection. “You’ll be too big and then you’ll want to be a lapdog.”

The puppy heaved a sigh of contentment.

Zeke sighed, too. He hadn’t owned a dog since childhood, but the days and night just after Mattie left had been almost unbearably lonely. One morning, he’d gone to town with nothing in mind but finding a puppy to keep him company. Surprised even Zeke how much it helped. Tommy followed him around everywhere he went, provided someone to talk to during meals, even slept in his bed at night, a warm, breathing comfort in the dark and lonely nights.

For most of the summer, he’d felt suspended, as if he were waiting for something he couldn’t quite name. He’d managed to save a little cash, but sooner or later he’d have to find something to do to tide him over, or get moving somewhere for the winter.

He called Kismet twice to see if Mattie had left him any messages. The first time, she’d called to let him know she was safe, and that the trial was set. The second time, there was no message, and Roxanne chided him gently. “You want to leave one for her?”

Zeke said, “Just tell her the invitation stands.”

“You are the stubbornest man,” Roxanne replied. “Even over five hundred miles, I can tell you’re as lovesick as you can be. Why don’t you just admit it?”