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Anticipation quickened her pulse. She put on the clothes. Finger-combed her matted mop of hair. Then sedately walked out from behind the curtain toward the administration desk.
Her nervous flutters fled, replaced with a melting warmth as Nick unfolded his long, lean frame from a chair and strode to her, reminding her of a dangerous panther stalking its prey.
And to her utter dismay, she realized she wanted to be hunted.
“The doc said you’re okay,” Nick stated by way of greeting as Blondie—Claire, he corrected himself—slowly drew nearer to him.
He’d waited to come until after the fire engines had disappeared and the investigators had finished scouring the area for clues to the arsonist. He’d answered the investigator’s questions and told them what he could about Blondie and the teens.
She’d changed into the clothing he’d brought her. Smudges of soot stood out in stark contrast on her pale face. Her hair poked out in different directions with bits of green grass peeking out here and there. He stifled a smile.
She was adorable, vulnerable and in need of protection.
In need of help from someone other than him.
He’d get her settled safely, then leave.
She blinked up at him. “What are you doing here?”
“Came to get you. I didn’t figure you’d have a way back. I hope the clothes are okay. Your roommate, Gwen, picked them out. She was pretty upset but I told her you’d call her as soon as you could. She had to get to work or she’d be here now.”
“Thanks. I’m glad Gwen did the responsible thing and didn’t come here.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “How…how bad is the damage to the building?”
Anger flared in his gut at what those punks had done. “The porch is gone. You’ll need a new back door.”
They headed toward the doors of the hospital. “And the puppy?”
He slanted her a glance. “Nick is fine. I found him in the park chasing bees.”
Ducking her head, she chuckled. “I hope you don’t mind that I named him after you. I didn’t think I’d see you again.”
He held the door open. “I’m flattered.”
To his amusement, her cheeks turned pink. “I guess I’ll have to call him Little Nick. So I don’t get you two confused.” They walked in silence for a moment before Claire glanced back up at him. “Thanks,” she said.
“For what?”
She stopped and tilted up her heart-shaped face. “I could have died if you hadn’t rescued me.”
The glint of admiration in her baby blues spread through him, making him think of knights, damsels in distress and fire-breathing dragons. Making him feel like a hero.
Stupid.
He was nobody’s hero.
“You were almost to the door,” he said.
“Why did you come back?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” He ushered her to the parking lot where he’d parked her little green four-wheel drive Subaru.
“Try me.” Her eyes widened. “Uh, thanks for bringing my car.”
He lifted a shoulder as he unlocked the door and held it open for her. “Gwen gave me the keys—we didn’t think you’d want to ride on the back of the Harley.”
A gleam of longing entered her blue eyes. “Actually, I would have liked that.”
He raised a brow. “Then I’ll take you for a spin before I leave.”
The hunger in her eyes set his blood to racing at full throttle on an open road, then abruptly she shook her head and wariness entered her gaze. “No, no. That wouldn’t be such a good idea.”
She climbed in the car and primly folded her hands in her lap.
Nick shut the door, grateful for the reprieve. The thought of her with him on his bike with her arms wrapped around his waist sent a shiver through him.
Not a good sign.
He wouldn’t allow himself to become attracted, attached or anything else to her.
Gotta keep moving, he warned himself.
Chapter Three
Driving with Claire down Pineridge’s main street, Nick surveyed the town with a jaundiced eye. Small-town America. He’d passed through so many over the last two years, they tended to blend together.
Redbrick storefronts with large, single pane windows lined both sides of the wide cement sidewalks. Every few stores sported a blue awning over the doorway. Nick barely glanced at the pedestrians moving at a sedate pace from shop to shop, going about their lives. He didn’t want to consider an old man’s frown or a young mother’s smile. Didn’t want to make a connection with anyone.
On both sides of the main street, about ten feet apart, stood a lone birch tree with a small square patch of dirt at its base. Kind of like himself, part of the whole, but separate.
On the west side of the main drag, cars parked between white angled lines. Red bricks indicated the crosswalks instead of painted lines. The street signs were tall, white posts with arrow-shaped slats and street names printed in bold black letters. The white posts rose out of large, round, colorful flowerpots. At each intersection, old-fashioned black metal lamp-posts added charm to an already charming community.
A family sort of town. A place to raise kids, watch summer parades and grow old in. A place he couldn’t easily disappear into. A place where he didn’t belong.
All the buildings were the same height. No high-power skyscrapers here. The perfect place for a woman like Claire, he thought, glancing over at her. Generous and kind. Open and friendly. A big city would eat her alive.
At the far end of town, he turned down the side street that led around the park.
The Zone came into view, a solitary structure flanked by empty lots. A lone police car sat at the curb in front. Nick parked behind the police car. Claire was out and up the cement front stairs before he had opened his door.
As he followed her inside, the puppy barked a greeting and raced to Claire. She bent and scooped him up for a quick hug. “Oh, you sweet little thing. I was so worried about you.”
Nick’s gaze focused on the officer rising from the couch. This guy had been here earlier. His uniform was starched and his badge shined. Not a single strand of hair was out of place. His young, clean-shaven face led Nick to guess the man to be in his early twenties.
The officer gave him an assessing once-over before focusing on Claire. “Good to see you’re okay, Claire.”
Nick didn’t like the way the man said her name with such familiarity. And he didn’t like that he didn’t like it.
At least she didn’t go all moonie-eyed. Not that he cared.
She set the animal back down. “Thanks, Bob. What are you doing here?” Without waiting for his reply, she walked toward the kitchen where most of the damage had been done by water. “Did the fire department say anything? How it started?”
Granting Nick a suspicious glance, Officer Bob walked to where she stood. “The fire started in the garbage cans. Whoever did this probably didn’t expect the building to catch on fire. But it was sloppy work.”
Nick stepped over to the counter and perched on a stool. “It was the teenagers from the park.”
Claire’s glare took him by surprise. “We don’t know that for sure.”
Officer Bob narrowed his gaze. “Which teenager?”
“Like I told the others, I came across two boys harassing Claire this afternoon in the park,” Nick said to the officer, but his gaze was riveted on Claire. He couldn’t figure out why she’d protect them.
Claire’s gaze was direct and pleading. “I didn’t see who did it.”
Officer Bob cleared his throat. “Maybe he did it.”
Nick’s gut clenched. The unfounded accusation rankled worse than a bottomed out stock market.
What a lame, backwater-cop thing to say. Nick stared at the officer. Bob glared at him with more than just suspicion. Jealousy filled his hazel eyes. So that’s how it was, Nick thought. Officer Bob had a thing for Claire.
“That’s ridiculous, Bob. He saved my life.”
“Maybe he set the fire to stage saving you.”
Claire gave Nick a can-you-believe-this look and then rolled her eyes. “Tell him you didn’t do it.”
“I didn’t do it,” Nick stated flatly.
“See, there you go. He didn’t do it.” Claire put the puppy down and then heedlessly splashed through the thin layer of water on the kitchen floor to the sink.
Bob folded his arms across his chest. The stance only emphasized his thinness. “He’s not from here, Claire. What do you know about him, anyway? He could be a serial arsonist, for all you know.”
Nick snorted, gaining himself another glare from Bob.
She filled a bowl with water, her movements efficient and unhurried, then carried the bowl to the living room where she set it on the dry floor for the puppy.
She straightened and leveled a stern look on Bob. “I know he’s from Long Island, that he’s traveling through town, he carries a Bible in his pocket, he stopped to help me when he didn’t have to and his name is Nick. That’s all I need to know.”
Nick blinked, touched that she’d so soundly defend him without really knowing anything more than she did. That she noted his Bible pricked his curiosity about her faith. She was too trusting and way too giving.
She needed a protector.
He wasn’t about to apply for the job, but he had a feeling that old Bob would sure like to.
“I want to see some ID,” Bob snarled at him.
Irritated to be the subject of the officer’s suspicion, but grateful someone was watching out for Claire’s interest, Nick dug his wallet out from the inside of his leather jacket and handed Bob his driver’s license. “Did they find anything useful?”
“That’s privileged information.” Bob shot him a dark look. “I’m going to run this through the computer.” He turned to Claire. “I’ll be right out front if you need me.”
She gave him a bland smile.
As soon as Officer Bob was out the door, Nick asked, “Why didn’t you want him to know about the kids? You could have been killed.”
Images flashed in his mind. The cloth shroud covering Serena’s body. The blood stains on the sidewalk. The headstone at her grave site. His insides twisted with unspent rage.
“We don’t know that they did it,” she defended.
“And we don’t know that they didn’t. Come on, Claire. You know that kid’s likely to do something.”
“You heard Bob. Whoever did it was trying to scare me with some smoke. They weren’t really trying to burn the place down.”
“You could have passed out and suffocated if I hadn’t come back!”
“Might have. And you did come back.”
He shook his head. “You gonna wait until they seriously harm you before you make them take responsibility for their actions?”
“You don’t know that they did it,” she repeated, clearly exasperated and defensive.
“Then let the police prove they didn’t do it.”
“No! I’m not going to accuse someone without proof. If the authorities find clues that implicate them, then so be it. But I won’t help them along.”
“Instead you’re going to wait for those punks to pull something else? Something worse?” Something like what had happened to Serena. He shuddered.
“I can take care of myself.”
He scoffed. “Give me a break. Lady, you’re a disaster waiting to happen.” A disaster he wanted to avoid.
“Excuse me? I don’t think you have any right to say that.”
She was right. Nick stared at her. When had he lost his mind?
When he’d come within an inch of throttling a punk over a puppy and started this whole mess. He should be halfway to somewhere else by now, not here arguing with Blondie.
But the woman was intent on putting herself at risk. Responsibility weighed heavily on his shoulders, dragging him under.
What he wouldn’t give for a life preserver right about now.
Pulsing with annoyance, Claire planted her hands on her hips and glared at Nick. “I have done perfectly well before you rolled into my life, thank you very much.”
He spread his hands wide in a gesture of entreaty. “Hey, just stating the obvious. I’ve known you less than twelve hours and I’ve saved your bacon twice. Facts speak for themselves.”
“My life is not a disaster.”
“Ho!” Nick held up a hand, palm facing out. “I didn’t say your life’s a disaster. I don’t know anything about your life. I’m just saying people will take advantage of you if you’re not careful.”
His words hit her like a slap upside the head. She’d been taken advantage of before. Billy had taken advantage. Used her. Squeezed her dry and then abandoned her without a second’s hesitation.
