The Drake House (8 page)

Steve rubbed at his thinning hair. “I’m done here. I’ll radio Wayne and catch up with him.”

Brad was still sitting on the bed slumped over, with his face now buried in his hands. Anger can take everything out of a person when it subsides. Nick knew his closeness with Trisha and bit back a sigh. Placing his hand to the man’s back, he leaned over. “We’re taking her up. Get some rest.”

Completely fatigued, he looked up. “She okay?”

Nick nodded and followed the Eatons outside. The men took one look at her curled under her father’s arm and dispersed inside, satisfied for now she was all right. Eduardo and Nancy came out and trailed them to the house.

Trisha stopped just inside the doorway, gaping at the staircase, and let out a groan. “I’ll walk you up,” he said. Nick turned to her parents, making sure he wouldn’t get resistance from them.

When they walked into the adjoining living room without argument, Nancy patted Trisha’s hair and let her tears fall. “I’ll make some tea. You talk with Nick and I’ll bring it up to you.”

She hadn’t uttered a word since Brad found her lying on the floor unconscious. Worried she might be in shock, he wrapped an arm around her waist and climbed the staircase, assisting her with each step. She didn’t put up a fight, but simply laid her head on his shoulder, walking blindly. Looking down his nose he found her long lashes closed and he shook his head. Having her there against him felt too damn right. He wasn’t the comforting type. Hell, he wasn’t even the knight in shining armor type. But with Trisha, seeing her like that, made him want to be a hero.

She pointed out which room was hers. When she settled on the bed, she leaned against the headboard, pulling out the ponytail at the back of her head. She winced at the pain from her bump after hitting the floor. He instinctively reached for her.

Putting up a hand to stop him, she muttered, “I’m fine. It just hurts like hell.”

Annoyed with himself and the situation she put herself in, he paced around her bedroom. He’d dealt with domestic disturbances, with children, and occasionally with murder, but he never had to deal with Trisha before.

She brought out emotions he couldn’t professionally put aside. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like the sight of her pale, limp body lying there on the floor or the swift need to hold her close. It grated his nerves watching all those hands on her when he wanted them to be his.
He
wanted to sooth her.

He swallowed and glanced around. The bedroom set was mahogany and crafted in clean straight lines. There were no embellishments or frills, just a few pictures on the yellow walls. The comforter on the bed was a deep, rich gold and matched the drapes hanging on her open window. He thought about how closely their tastes matched and how well-suited they were to each other before quashing the thought away.

“Sit down, Nick,” she murmured, drawing him back to her.

He obliged, sitting next to her on the edge of the queen-sized bed.

“So serious,” she said and pouted her lips mockingly.

Pleased to hear the sarcasm return, he slanted a gaze at her. “He could’ve really hurt you. Why didn’t you have someone with you when you fired him?”

The question was professional and curt, but she must have seen his underlying fear and relied on her backbone to defend against him. “I can handle my spread and staff on my own.”

Defensive as she, he straightened. “I can see that by the bruise on your cheek and the egg on your head.”

Thoroughly insulted, she ground her teeth and clenched. “Who the hell are you to come in here and—”

“You scared me,” he muttered, searching her face, forcing his features to remain unreadable.

“I didn’t mean to.” She looked away, a blush rising up her neck and spreading to her cheeks. Rolling those hazel eyes, she looked back at him. “He caught me off guard and in a moment of weakness. It won’t happen again.” She played with the hairband in her lap. “Is Brad okay? Did he freak out?”

He banked down the irritation that she asked about another man when he was sitting right here in front of her. “He’s fine. You gave us all a good scare. Your parents are downstairs. I’ll send them up when we’re through.”

She nodded, causing her hair to fall over her face. Giving into the urge, he tucked it behind her ears and left his hands to linger at the side of her face before dropping them back to his lap. “Do you want to press charges?”

Lazily, she blinked. “I don’t think so. Should I?”

He shrugged as if he didn’t care. “It’s up to you. If he hit you, he’s probably done it before. It could prevent any more occurrences. I don’t think he’ll be any more trouble to you, but one of us will drive by every couple hours tonight to be sure.”

She closed her eyes and laid her head back gently against the headboard. “I’ll come to the station in the morning.”

“I have to tell you something before I go.” He waited until she opened her dazed eyes and focused her attention on him. “After I dropped you off last night, someone called me. They warned me to stay away from you.”

“What?” Her features no longer drowsy, she perked her head back up. “Who?”

“I don’t know. Sounded male, though. I couldn’t make out an approximate age, but it was an adult. He whispered and held something over the receiver to mask the voice.”

She shook her head slowly, confused. “I don’t know anyone who would do that.”

“Who knew we went out?”

She flinched and shook her head again. “Everyone here. But it’s a small town, everyone probably knew. Word travels fast. No one would care who I date.”

“Any bad ex-boyfriends I need to know about?”

“No.” Her vague expression gave him the confirmation he needed.

Nancy walked in and set a cup of steaming tea down on her bedside table. The tears were gone but the expression on her face told Nick they threatened to come again.

“I’m going,” he said and rose. “I’ll see you in the morning. Wake her every two hours tonight, okay?” he told Nancy.

When he left, he was only slightly comforted that she had Nancy by her side to dote on her instead of him.

Chapter Five

“I’ll be nice and let you have my muffin today.”

Trisha attempted to smile at Steve. “I’m not hungry, but thanks.”

She wasn’t at all in the mood to make a statement today. Her head throbbed and she felt like an utter idiot for the entire ordeal. Wayne and Steve joked about it, though she saw their underlying anger for the situation. But it was Nick who royally pissed her off.

Last night he cooed like she was a helpless female, then insulted her. Now, he barely glanced her way and acted as if he wasn’t in the same station house with her. She despised games.

“So, I guess the last thing left to do is decide if you want to press charges.”

Trisha tore her glare from where Nick was chatting with her parents and frowned at the deputy. “Do you think I should, Steve?”

“Well, that’s up to you.” He eyed her bruised cheek. “But personally, I’d love to haul his ass in here for you.”

“All right, do it.” She rose and pecked his cheek. “Thanks for everything last night, driving by the house and all.”

Steve kicked his feet up onto the desk, crossing them, and leaned back in his chair. “I’d like to take all the praise, but it’s Nick who sat outside of your house all night in the car, not me.”

Trisha’s eyes narrowed. “Did he now,” she whispered.

“Yep,” Steve replied and wiggled his brows. “But you can kiss me again if you want.”

Grinning, she leaned in close to his ear. “I’ll tell your wife you said so.” While he was distracted, she snatched his muffin and winked. “Thanks for breakfast.”

Unamused, Steve muttered, “You’re a sneaky woman, Trish.”

“I know.” Rounding the desk, she hugged Wayne. “Thanks for everything. Let me know when you’ve got him.”

“Sure will, apple. Take it easy today,” he ordered half-heartedly, knowing she wouldn’t anyhow.

Without bothering a glance for Nick, Trisha strolled out of the station with her parents trailing.

****

Trisha set her bucket of cleaning supplies down and eyed the task ahead of her. Mike left the bedroom a disaster. It would take all day to clean it up. She declined shopping with her mother and Nancy to fix this, and left her father and the men to work the last of the spring chores in the orchard.

Grabbing a garbage bag, she decided to pack his clothes first. Snatching the ones on the floor, she shoved them into the bag. She should have brought a nose plug. Tossing that bag aside in the hallway, she grabbed another for the closet.

He didn’t have much. There were no family heirlooms in the room, no mementos. The walls were bare and lifeless, as if he didn’t matter to anyone at all. Suddenly saddened, she set aside the last two bags of clothes and began compiling garbage.

She had a wonderful, loving family. Some were the men who worked the orchard—not for her, but with her. There were her parents, who without hesitation took in a stray three-year-old to raise as their own. Eduardo and Nancy, like an aunt and uncle more than staff, would do anything for her. And here she was, cleaning up the life of a man no one knew.

Pitching the garbage bags out the window in order to not pass the stink to the rest of the home, she pondered if she could have done something more for Mike. After capping the whiskey bottle, she stripped the bed. No sense in keeping the sheets. Better off burning them.

She was just about to mop the floor when she heard footsteps behind her.

“You got most of it done,” Brad said.

“Yeah,” she sighed and peered around. “I’ll need a bleach bath after this.”

Instead of grinning, he grabbed a mop. “I’ll help.”

“No,” she ordered immediately. “This is my fault, my mess. I’ll do it.”

His eyes heated. “This is
not
your fault.” Then his tone softened. “The spring duties are done. You know it’ll be slow after this for a while. I’ll help.”

“All right, thanks.” She gave in and went to edge around him for dusting supplies.

He gripped her arm and hauled her to him in a fierce hug. Clenching her tight, she felt him tense and grasp her hair in an extremely rare display of helplessness. Pressing his cheek to the top of her head, he coarsely uttered, “You scared the shit out of me.”

He’d been her constant and best friend since her parents first brought her home thirty years ago, and never in her recollection had he ever hugged her desperately and said anything of the sort. Guilt swamped her and threatened to take over. She leaned back and pressed her palms to his cheeks, rising on tiptoe to plant a kiss on his forehead. “I know. I’m so sorry.”

She watched the moment ebb away as he cleared his throat. He stepped away from her.

“You remember in fourth grade when that brat Alex was picking on Chuck for being overweight?” She was pleased to see his full grin return.

“Yeah,’ he said. “You marched across the lunchroom and slapped him in front of the whole school, nearly got suspended.”

“So I can handle myself and defend my own.”

“I know. Just don’t do that ever again.”

Breathing out a laugh, she hugged him again. “Yes, sir.”

“Am I interrupting?” The voice she was growing to like and hate equally sounded behind her. Nick had a self-righteous frown on his face as he leaned against the doorway.

Trisha smelled jealousy and stiffened her spine. “What can I do for you, Nick?”

His eyes shifted to Brad then back to her. “We’ve got Mike Peltzer in lock-up. We want you to come back to the station.”

“I’m going,” Brad said firmly.

She placed a hand on his arm. “I’ve got this. Can you finish up here?”

Brad glowered at Nick, and then looked at her. “If you want.”

“I do.” She rose up on her toes and pecked his cheek to diffuse the anger there. “I’ll be back soon. Get Andrew or Chuck to help you if you need it. I’ll buy new sheets and a comforter while I’m in town.”

“Fine.”

Pushing past Nick, Trisha marched down the hallway. Without turning around, she barked at him, “Grab those bags, they come with us.”

****

“This is not a good idea.”

Trisha rose from where she was seated on Steve’s desk. “I, personally, do not care what you think, Nick.” She lifted an angered hand toward Steve, before he could retort, and glared at Wayne for him to agree.

He nodded with a frown. “All right, apple, but Nick will be watching you. You be careful.”

“Sheriff,” Nick ground out, “we cannot put an assault victim in the cage with the accuser. It’s not protocol.”

“Protocol is whatever I say it is, son. And Trisha is no victim, trust me.”

Steve hooted. “Ain’t that the truth.”

“Now you can take me to see him.”

Nick didn’t like it. He had sat in his car all night watching her house to make sure this jackass didn’t come back. He’d stood in her bedroom and waited for those brown eyes to clear after Mike knocked her unconscious, wincing himself for the bruised cheek. And now the woman wanted to go in the ring with him. “Fine, let’s go.”

Trailing him through the back room and down the hallway, Trisha carried the bags she collected from Mike’s room. After silently unlocking the cell with a scowl, Nick swung the door open. “I’m watching.”

“You do that.”

She stepped to the door. Mike Peltzer was hunched over, his demeanor screaming defeat, remnants of alcohol lingering. She set the bags down outside of his cell. “I was packing your things earlier, Mike, and found no pictures or personal items.”

His head whipped up. “What do you care, bitch.”

Nick moved to the doorway with every intention of hauling her away when she whirled on him and shook her head. Gritting his teeth, he backed away.

“You made a disaster of my home. You lost the respect of the men. You punched a woman for no reason other than you could. So this bitch cares.”

Mike expelled a harsh sigh and crossed his arms.

“Do you have any family, Mike?”

Without looking at her, he muttered, “No.”

Nick watched as Trisha tilted her head to the side and weariness clouded her eyes. Mesmerized by her tenacity and strength, he continued to watch the interaction, wondering where she was going with this line of questioning.