Peace (8 page)

Yes, if he brought someone like her home for Christmas? He would feel like he had finally done something right. Getting a woman like her to love him would mean as much as bringing down a whole gang of criminals.

She leaned forward. “You should call your parents, Chris.”

Just like that, his daydream bubble burst. “Beth, I can't—”

“All you have to do is call and let them know that you're okay. You don't have to tell them where you are.”

Her naïveté about how modern technology worked made him wish that things really were so simple. “It's not that easy.”

“I know! You could call them on your cell phone.”

“Cell phones can be easily tracked. Besides, I don't have one. I dumped mine hours before I got here.” He didn't want to scare her, but he was pretty sure that his parents' phone lines were being tapped. “I promise, what we're doing right now? It's enough. Even talking about my family is more than I've let myself do in years.”

“But I'm sure they're worried about you. I'm sure your
mamm
would want to know if you were sick and in bed. Covered with bruises and fighting off a fever. At Christmas, no less!”

“I doubt they even think about me much anymore.” He didn't want to sound so maudlin, but the simple truth was that she probably had no concept of what it was like to be so alone. Tempering his voice, he said, “Beth, at the moment, I'm tucked away in a lovely inn, sitting next to a beautiful woman.” After debating for a bit, he tried to smile. “If this is the best thing that happens this Christmas I'll count myself lucky.”

He was just about to say something else. About to say too much, about to tell her something she wouldn't be able to handle—like that he loved her—when a sharp rap at the front door startled them both.

Beth jumped to her feet. Eyes wide, she whispered, “What should I do? Do you think someone's found you?”

“Um, I don't think they'd be knocking at the door if they had. At least, not like that. We'd better go find out.”

Her hands clenched and it was obvious she was attempting to hide her fear.

He hated that. A thousand recriminations hit him hard. “I'm sorry, Beth, but you're going to have to go answer it. I'll be right behind you, though.” Then he tried his best to concentrate only on his gun and his quick inspection of it.

Pulling on a shirt that she'd left on the end of the bed sometime during the night, he followed her downstairs in his bare feet.

Just as the knock came again. This time much, much harder.

“Beth?” Mose Kramer called out.

“It's the sheriff,” she whispered to Chris. “What should we do?”

If the sheriff was here, Chris knew he couldn't embroil her into his mess any further. “You don't need to do a thing. Go sit down in the kitchen. I'll deal with him.”

“I'm staying,” she said obstinately.

“Beth? Hello?” the sheriff called out again, this time accompanying his call with a jangle of the doorknob.

He was out of time. “Suit yourself,” Chris murmured as he turned the dead bolt to the right and finally opened the door with a new, desperate feeling of doom. “Hello, Sheriff,” he said.

“You,” Mose said, staring at him with a healthy look of disdain. “I should have known.”

The frigid air burst into the entryway and onto his bare feet. It was so cold he immediately felt the chill. “Want to come in?”

Mose stepped right through the door, not sparing Chris a second glance. Instead his gaze seemed to be fastened on Beth. “Are you all right?” he asked as he walked toward her, bringing salt and ice onto the wood floor with him.

“Mose, take off your boots,” Chris said.

“My boots are the least of your worries, pup.”

“You're tracking snow and ice onto Beth's clean floor.” To Chris's pleasure, the sheriff immediately hunched over and started unlacing his boots.

“Chris?” Beth mouthed.

He attempted to smile, glad the little task was buying them both some time. Beth looked like she was about to faint from worry. And him? Well, he needed to decide just how much to tell the sheriff.

Once his feet were clad in only white socks, Mose turned to Chris. “Looks like I'm staying for a while. Have a seat and tell me what in the world you're doing here. And by the way, you look like you were on the losing end of a good fistfight.”

“I was,” Chris said dryly.

Beth was hovering by his side. “He should be in bed, Sheriff. He has stitches. And a fever.”

Mose raised his eyebrows. “Stitches?”

Chris was thankful that he'd let Beth's fever comment slide. “They're nothing to worry about.”

“Not now. But they were before I stitched him up.”

Mentally, Chris shook his head. Now she was happy about the stitches?

“If you've got Beth stitching you up, I'm guessing you didn't go to the hospital. Care to tell me why?”

“I couldn't risk it.”

Mose leaned back, like he was settling in for the afternoon. “Hmm. It looks like I got here just in time. You'd best start talking.”

Chris made his decision. He was going to have to trust Mose. “My cover was blown two days ago.”

“Which is why you're looking like you do.” Leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, he said, “Keep talking. I'm confused as to why you're here instead of somewhere safer. I would have thought you fancy DEA agents would have had a better system for trouble.”

“We do, but I've been ordered to stay in the area until after Christmas.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “They wanted me out of the way so they could pursue all the leads without me being there. I'm a liability now.”

“You still haven't told me why you came here and not someplace else.”

Chris hated revealing how weak he felt—and how alone he was. “I could barely drive. As you can see, I was beaten up pretty good. This place, it's just about in the middle of nowhere, Mose. At least to most outsiders.”

“These people you've been dealing with, are they working around here? 'Cause if they are, I need to know.”

“They're not. They're farther south. Near Tennessee.”

Mose stared at him, then at Beth. “Beth, surely this isn't what you expected when you agreed to look after the place for Frannie and Luke. Are you afraid? Do you want me to get him out of here for you?”

Chris felt like closing his eyes in despair. Of course she was afraid. Anyone who looked at her could tell she was. And of course it would be best for her if he agreed to leave with Mose.

But though all of that made sense, something inside him rejected the idea. Quite simply, he didn't want to leave Beth. Their time together was going to be short enough. Selfishly, he wanted to stay by her side as long as possible.

“I'm not afraid with Chris here.”

“He's the reason you should be afraid,” Mose said gently. “I don't want to scare ya, but this man attracts some of the worst folks you can imagine. They're desperate, and not a one of them has anything to lose.”

“He has a gun.”

The sheriff turned to him and glared. “Well, of course you do. Why wouldn't you be armed in a country bed-and-breakfast?” Looking irritated enough to spit nails, Mose got to his feet. “Mr. Ellis—or whatever your name is—I think it would be best for everyone if you came along with me. I can put you up at my place. There's a room up in my attic that you can have until you can be on your way.”

Wearily, Chris got to his feet, too. “I'll get my gear.”

Beth stepped in between them. “
Nee
. I want him to stay.”

“You don't know what you're saying, Beth,” Mose warned. “This man is dangerous.”

“Not to me.” She looked at him beseechingly. “Tell him, Chris. Tell him that you'd never hurt me.”

He ached to reach out to her, to take her into his arms and soothe her fears. “Of course, I'd never hurt you,” he said quietly. “But I can't promise that no harm will come to you. There's a difference.”

To his amazement, tears formed in her eyes. “Please, don't leave me alone.” Turning to Mose, she said, “There's a chance those men, those drug dealers might already know he's here,
jah
?”

“Yes.”

“Then there's a chance that they could come here. I don't want to be alone if they show up.”

Mose stared at her. “What else is going on, Beth? What are you not telling me?”

“Nothing is going on. It's just that I simply know what I need to be doing—and that is taking care of Chris. He can take care of me if something happens.”

Mose sat back down. “Beth, what is your mother going to say?”

“Nothing, because I'm not going to tell her.”

“This will come out sooner or later. You know it will.”

Beth looked at Mose with a schoolteacher glare. “Nothing good will come from telling my mother about Chris, Mose. You know that as certainly as I do. Besides, in a few days this will only be a memory.”

The sheriff stared at her hard before glancing his way. “Chris, I hope you know what havoc you've created.”

“Believe me, if I felt like I had a choice, I would have stayed far away from here.” Knowing that some things had to be shared, he turned to Beth. “Would you please get me a sheet of paper and a pen? I need to write some names and numbers down for the sheriff.”

When she left, Chris turned to Mose. “You have every right to ask me to go, but I'm asking you to let me stay until the twenty-sixth. By then I'll be well enough to get around better and my boss will have been able to send someone out to run interference.”

“Interference my foot. You've got a terrible problem here.”

“I swear, I don't think anyone will find me here. I wouldn't have come otherwise.”

Mose shook his head slowly. “I ain't talking about your drug-dealing buddies, Chris Ellis.” He looked at him meaningfully. “She's a good woman with a kind heart. I'd hate for you to stoop so low as to start taking advantage of an Amish woman's kindness. Or make her think that something could ever be possible between the two of you.”

Beth's return prevented him from replying. Instead, he took the paper, and wrote down two names. “If something does happen, call Taylor King. She's my partner. Or, you can call Ryan Holditch; he's my direct report and is in the Chicago office.”

Mose took the paper, studied the names for a minute, then stood up with great reluctance. “I can't say I'm real pleased about this, but since it's out of my jurisdiction and no crime has been committed, I guess it don't matter much what I think.” Turning to Beth, he waved a finger. “Don't forget to visit your mother. And don't forget to use Frannie's cell phone and call me if you change your mind about things.”

“I won't forget.”

After he slipped on his boots and tied the laces, Mose glanced at Chris one more time. “You really do look poorly, Chris. You might consider taking a long rest.”

“I'll do that. Thank you.”

Mose tipped his hat, scowled at him one more time, then let himself out.

When the door closed behind Mose, Beth heaved a sigh of relief. “Oh, Chris, I was so worried that he was going to make you leave.”

Before he could reply, she sat down next to him and treated him to a perfectly beautiful smile of triumph. “Everything is going to be just fine now. I know it.”

She would stay safe. He would do anything it took to make sure of that.

But as he counted the hours until he left her forever, nothing felt “just fine.” Of course, what did it matter if his heart was breaking?

Needing some time to collect himself, he said, “Beth, why don't you go see your mother for a little bit? Mose was right. You should probably reassure her. We don't want her sending anyone else over here to check up on you.”

“I don't want to leave you alone. Your fever could get worse.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I took some ibuprofen. And all I'm going to do is take a nap. I really do think a visit to your mom is a good idea. When you get back, I'll make us a fire and we can sit here on the couch. How about that?”

“I think that sounds
gut
. But don't you start thinking you got anything over on me, Chris. I'm still intent on looking out for you.”

“I'm planning on it,” he murmured. When she hopped up, he followed, only much more slowly. His body was exhausted and his brain felt like mush. He wasn't going to be able to do another single thing until he got some sleep.

“See you in a bit,” he said as he headed toward the stairs. And, he hoped, sweet oblivion.

Chapter 8

Every Christmas, I get my
mamm
a new set of cozy flannel pajamas. She used to get them for me, you see. Now it's my turn to treat her.