Uncaged (6 page)

Christy marveled at the instant change in Mitchell’s expression. A moment ago, he’d appeared so cynical. Now, he looked at her with a sparkling, indefinable something.

The grip on her wrist eased, and his fingers glided between hers and held her hand in a warm embrace. “I would never have recognized you. The face. The voice. Everything. Why didn’t you say who you were right away?”

“I meant to, and then I got nervous.”

“I thought about you all the time. When I read the details in the paper, it made me sick. I wished I killed those guys when I had the chance.” He stared at her. “Looking at you now, I would never have guessed you were Child X from the Reverend Simon trial.”

“Leonora invested so much trouble and time protecting my identity from the press. She made sure my court dates with the judge were private. No photos of me were taken. With subtle expertise, all of my requests to contact you were deflected.”

“This was your secret?” His voice cracked with tender emotion. “You wanted to contact me? Christy, Leonora said it would be best if I stayed away. I didn’t even know your last name.”

“Leonora did a great job of shielding me. My mother’s maiden name is Killgaren. I use it now. After the Reverend Simon trial ended, I almost lived a normal, if not an overprotected, childhood.”

He pulled her toward the chair and motioned for her to sit. “Why did you lie? Did you think I wouldn’t want to talk to you?”

“Leonora told me—”

Gee approached. “This section’s now closed to anyone under twenty-one. Better use those take-out containers and call it a night.”

Mitchell looked impatient. “Gee, give us a minute, okay?”

With a sour grunt and heavy footsteps, the bearlike man returned to the bar.

Mitchell squeezed Christy’s hand. “I’m not letting you get away this time. I’ll find a quiet place where we can talk.”

Her head spun. Once again, Mitchell became the pillar of reassurance she couldn’t get close enough to. He looked at her with loving concern. In a heartbeat, it all flooded back. The terror. The pain. Pure desperation. Then out of the shadows, salvation. A kind voice with a plan. An avenging angel whose earthly powers were unmatched—Mitchell.

Breaking free of his gentle grip, she picked up her plate and slid its contents into one of the containers. “Is there somewhere else in Los Lobos we could go? A coffee shop? Another diner?”

He laughed. “You saw the main drag. This is it.”

“I’d ask again, why Los Lobos? But I get the impression I wouldn’t hear the truth.”

He glanced down at his boots, then up at her. A bashful expression colored his face. “We could go upstairs to my room-m-m,” he stuttered. “It’s comfortable. I promise it won’t get weird.”

Swallowing hard. “Okay.” After all, she came here for him. In her mind, Mitchell earned extra points for figuring out her identity on his own and expressing genuine joy. It provided mild proof some bond between them existed. Now, she needed to work up the nerve to tell him all he meant to her and then dart into oblivion before she made a colossal fool of herself. “Don’t forget your burger.”

Ignoring the container, he picked up his plate and plopped her take-out container on top of his food. “Follow me.”

“You just smashed your burger.”

“It will be fine.”

She stepped aside, so he could lead the way. With a slow but steady stride, he walked without leaning on his cane. He chose a roundabout path that circled the crowded bar, cut across the poolroom, past a storage pantry, and finally, up a back staircase.

“What do people who live here do for work?”

Glancing over his shoulder, he trudged up the stairs. “Lots of things. Aside from the local businesses, there are teachers, nurses, park rangers, and of course a sheriff. We even have a documentary filmmaker. At the moment, I’m one of the few that doesn’t have an official job. I do odds and ends for Gee, but most of the time, we just get on each other’s nerves.” He laughed.

“This town’s dainty digital footprint is suspicious. When I Googled it, not much came up, yet it’s a pretty rockin’ place on a Saturday night. With my history, I’m sure you know why anomalies like this make me nervous. For years, Reverend Simon ran his own private compound, kidnapping the occasional girl to reward a follower. Would you care to tell me why Los Lobos is so secretive?”

“Are we secretive?” He slanted a sideways look at her. “You found us easily enough.” They came to a rustic pine door. Mitchell leaned the cane against the wall, turned the knob, and pushed the door open.

“No key?”

“No need.” Balancing the food in one hand, he stood in the doorway, allowing her to pass.

She entered the spacious cabin-like room. The steep, exposed-beam ceiling and single small window suggested the room had once been an attic. Woven Native American rugs hung against the knotty pine walls like fine tapestry, providing the only bursts of color to a shades-of-brown decor. The furnishings were sparse and included a well-used reclining chair, a tiny kitchenette with a hot plate set atop a mini fridge, and a large trundle bed shoved into a corner.

Looking around the room, she brushed her fingers against a stack of quilts. “Why is the bed set under the lowest part of the ceiling? You’re so tall. Aren’t you afraid you’ll jump up some night and smack your head?”

A sheepish smile curled his lips. “That’s already happened. I didn’t see it coming as clearly as you.” He pointed to a floor vent. “I wanted to be close to the heater.”

“Ah.” Moving on to a row of shelves. “What’s on the other side of the wall?”

“Gee’s room.”

“That’s nice. So, you can fight just by tapping on the wall.”

He laughed. “Gee snores like a bear.”

“Maybe he says the same about you?” Feeling nervous as hell to finally be alone with Mitchell, she did her best to hide it. In his publicity photos, he looked aggressive, intimidating, and self-assured. At this moment, he looked shy. His thick black lashes were beautiful. Most of all he looked younger than expected. Despite a sprint in life’s fast lane, his face still bore a hint of innocence. “You’re only twenty-two aren’t you?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do next?”

He shrugged. “Fighting is all I’ve ever done.”

“That’s not completely true. I read somewhere you co-managed Hank’s Hardware Gym.”

“That’s a generous exaggeration. Hank’s a great guy. His heart is in the right place. In all honesty, janitor is a better job description.”

After reading the magazine clipping so many times, she’d memorized it. “That’s not what Hank said in the article. He said you helped him train the state championship high school wrestling team and taught the children’s Tae Kwan Do program all by yourself. He mentioned after you went pro, the PR financially benefited the gym. Do you stay in touch with Hank?”

“As a favor to Hank, no,” he grumbled. “He’s doing good. I’m not the sort of guy he’d want hanging around a family business.”

She walked toward the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. “You’re not a monster or damaged goods. Believe me I know what I’m talking about.”

With firm but gentle pressure, he placed a hand on her shoulder and motioned for her to move. “Don’t sit there.”

“Why?”

His face flushed. “I sleep there. Sit over here.” He walked her toward the kitchenette, unfolding a small table and two jump seats from the wall. The table was closer in size to a large tray. He set the plate and take-out container down. “Have a seat.”

She sat, relieved to discover the folding bench felt sturdier than it looked. Opening her take-out container she took hold of her burger. Her appetite returned, and she bit in with pleasure. “Yum. Gee is a damn good cook,” she mumbled between bites. “Even cooled it’s still great.”

He bit into his. His eyes rolled heavenward. “I should have ordered two.”

She realized she could probably eat two, also. “Can we order more?”

“Sure. I’ll go downstairs in a few minutes and get more. It’s best not to wait. On busy nights, if they run low on patties, Gee tries to force fried pickles on everyone.”

An afternoon spent drinking acidic coffee made her stomach lurch at the mention of a pickle. “Eww. No.”

“It doesn’t sound good to me either.”

For a minute, they ate in silence and watched each other across the table.

Mitchell shifted his long legs, bumping her with his knees. “I’m sorry. I’m used to eating alone.”

“No problem.” Even a light brush of physical contact took her breath. She savored the luxury of looking at him. Dark, wavy hair tumbled around his face. She wondered when he’d cut it last. In this light, beneath the grainy scruff on his jaw, she noticed a slight dimple in his chin and a faded scar photoshopped out of most print promotions. The rough details made him even more attractive. As her gaze swept upward, she was startled to see his attention, laser focused on her. Their gazes met and locked as if captive under a mysterious force. For a heart-skipping moment, she couldn’t look away.

Mitchell broke the gaze first. He rose from the bench and strolled over to the window. “Holy crap. Look at it coming down.”

She rushed to his side. “Oh no!” High drifts of snow blanketed the street below. The business district looked like a white wilderness. A few heaped lumps lined the front of Gee’s Bar. A sickening realization dawned. “My car is buried! How am I going to get out of here? Does Los Lobos have a snow plow?”

“We have a small plow, but it can’t fight weather like this. I could dig your car out, but why? There’s no way you’d make it to the highway.”

“I reserved a hotel room in Rapid City.”

His lip curled. “Cancel it. You’ll never make it. Besides, I wouldn’t even let you try.”

“Does Los Lobos have a motel?”

“There’s nothing. This room is the closest thing to an extended-stay motel Los Lobos has to offer.”

“Christ. I can’t even sleep in my car.”

“You can sleep in my bed.” The awkward words hung in the air. He ran a palm across his thick hair, smoothing a few strands from his brow. “I meant, you can sleep in my bed. I’ll sleep on Gee’s couch. Christy, I’d never assume….”

Fearless Mitchell looked as flustered as she felt. She wanted to kiss the determined line of his lips until they softened and he understood she’d cherish anything he willingly offered. God knew she’d always dreamed of having him as a friend or lover, preferably both. “I feel badly that I’m putting you out and causing problems. I’ll bet you had other plans tonight.”

“I didn’t.” A tense laugh escaped. “Welcome to my Saturday night! This is all I have to show for the last four years of my life. Everything I own is in this room. Okay, that’s not completely true,” he muttered. “I have a truck and a little money from a settlement Tex didn’t know about.” With strange intensity, he stared. “To be honest, your visit is the best thing to happen to me since the car accident last autumn. I mean that. The nightmare incident in the alleyway haunted me. I often wondered what happened, if you were okay. It’s good to see you looking so…healthy.”

“I thought of you often, also.” Her hopes soared. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

Apprehension clouded his expression. “Go ahead.”

“Do you have a girlfriend or someone who cares about you?”

“I’ve got no one. Maybe that’s my problem.”

“You don’t have to sleep on Gee’s couch. I can sleep in the chair.”

His gaze softened. “It won’t be comfortable.”

Grazing her fingertips across a frosty windowpane. “It’s better than becoming a human icicle out there.”

“True.” He sat at the table to eat the last of his burger. She joined him, finishing her food as well. Reaching toward a wooden bowl filled with red apples, he picked one up and polished it on his flannel sleeve. He dug into his pocket, retrieved a folding knife, and pulled out the blade.

The glitter of inlaid abalone shell and pearl caught her eye. “Is that a wolf on the handle?”

“Yes.” With an open palm, he presented the beautifully crafted item for inspection. “This belonged to my dad. He carried it everywhere.” He pressed the blade into the crisp apple skin, making it
crunch
, and sliced a sliver of fruit for her. “My dad would sit with me and my sister and divide candy bars, popsicles, everything with this blade. He said a man should always carry a knife and be ready to share.”

Bringing the bit of sweet apple to her lips, she bit. She’d never known her father. “That’s a nice saying.”

“It’s more than a saying. My dad shared everything.” Pointing to a framed photograph on a near shelf. “That’s my family.”

She glanced at the photo, first noticing a slender teenage Mitchell and his look-alike father, standing on the bank of a lake. A young girl of about twelve or thirteen, wearing denim cutoffs and a smug smile, leaned her head against Mitchell’s shoulder. “Did you get along with your sister? I always wished for a sister.”

“Are teenage brothers and sisters supposed to get along? Isabelle gave me a lot of lip.” A bittersweet smile crossed his face. “At fifteen, I started shaving. Issy made the most embarrassing comments about it in public, but I loved her. If she were alive, she’d be your age.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.”

“We both have a lot of sad things in our past, don’t we?”

He grunted. “Yep.”

“It’s hard to tell others about it, isn’t it?”

He continued cutting and dividing the apple between them. “Uh-huh.”

“It’s like they want to know too much, or they don’t want know about it at all. I’ve watched people shut down and turn away from me, once they find out who I am. It frightens them to know evil is loose in the world, and I’d been in direct contact with so much of it. Like the taint is contagious. They look at me like I’ll never wash clean and always be damaged. I hate it. But the worst ones are too interested. You know the type, strangers who ask some gnarly-sick questions. I’m disturbed they’d be so fascinated. Sometimes I just want to explain—I’m more than my story. I don’t want to dwell there. Being the victim or the movie of the week has zero appeal. ”

His eyes glittered in the low light. “I know.”